Sleepwalker
by Mariphasa Hecatene
Summary: Jin's past and inner life, the nightmare in which he's been traveling, and how he makes his way toward awakening. Dark stuff, some implied violence, male x male sex in several chapters, lots of dream logic...
1. Chapter 1: the strangest dream

_**Sleepwalker, **_chapter I: _the strangest dream_

Disclaimer and notes: I do not (sigh) own Jin, Mariya Enshirou, Niwa Junnosuke, or any other character of _Samurai Champloo,_ and I have no intent of trespassing on the copyrights of Manglobe and Simoigusa Champloos (c) 2004-05, to whom I owe so much. Many, many thanks and warm dedications to my nakama: Judy/Gecko, without whom nothing happens; and to my priceless beta-reader and collaborator Ariel the Tempest, without whom this would never have gotten past "passing thought" stage; by now she may know how important all that is.

Edited July 2009 to purge it of fangirl Japanese.

* * *

He was having the strangest dream.

Everyone else in the house was screaming.

That's how he knew it was a dream. He was at home, and home is safe. People don't scream there.

He heard running feet, and a cold voice shouting commands, something shattering…

If he just stayed asleep, it would pass by soon. He closed his eyes tightly, curled up in warm, tea-scented darkness.

The screaming faded away, the running feet departed. Everything was as it should be again, except the smell. A dark, heavy smell had crept into his dream, like iron in the sun, or rot.

More running feet, and voices…

_Too late…knew the clan had enemies, but…the whole place reeks of blood.. _

(blood? That smell was blood? No--)

_...anyone left alive?_

Abruptly light broke in on his dark space, and someone scooped him up, wrenching him into reality. He fought with the fury of pure terror, and the startled young man set him down, said something…

"--easy, won't hurt you, boy. Did you see what happened? Did you recognize any of them?"

…what did he mean?…and who else did Jin hear talking? An unfamiliar voice--

He looked around, realized that they were standing in the kitchen, of all places. But he had been asleep in the main room, with everyone else--when--how had he--

Something itched his neck; he rubbed it unthinking and felt a small object, crisp and dry. It crunched in his fingers: a tea leaf.

Rubbing it slowly to powder between his fingers, not at all aware of it, Jin walked out into the central room, hearing the soldier's footsteps follow him. Strangers, armed men, but standing still, as at a loss for words. He stared at them fixedly, with a sudden, awful fear of looking at anything else in the room. The dark smell overpowered the delicate fragrance of the tea leaf. The young soldier behind Jin spoke.

"Their son, sir. Jin, if I remember. He must have heard them break in and hidden himself in the kitchen bins; they missed him in the confusion, I expect. I doubt he saw anything."

..yes, that was right; he remembered. He had been shocked awake by a sudden inexplicable terror, scrambled clear of the futon and darted for the kitchen; right on his heels the sudden commotion, the door crashed open, his father shouting; he had just dived into the tea basket as heavy feet pounded into the room--they must have missed seeing him by no more than a _sun_ or two…he was lucky…

The captain shook his head. "Makes no sense. Killed even the servants but left without being certain they'd gotten the son and heir. Do they have a death wish?"

"There is a boy his age dead--" another soldier pointed--"There. A servant's child maybe. Probably mistook him for this one and thought their job done." He spat. "Bastards."

It didn't make any sense. Who were these people? Where was everyone else? Couldn't he just go back to sleep? Everything was so, so wrong--- and that smell, that made his spine tingle and his stomach feel knotted up and sick all at once…

The words began to fade into a blur again. _What to do…whole family dead…Mariya-dono's dojo. He's kin to House Takeda, and has no son of his own…_

The young guard captain who'd found him was trying to explain that he needed to collect his belongings and get ready to leave, there was a long journey ahead of him. In the middle of the night? But…

Then one of the men moved aside and Jin saw what was in his parents' bed.

* * *

They'd thought he'd been drugged when he arrived at the dojo; his pupils had dilated when he saw what was left of his family, and he stared fixedly into middle distance for the entire journey there. The first time they put a sword in his hand, however, he seemed to suddenly awake. It was recalled that his father had spoken of his natural talent with a blade, and there was general relief that Mariya-dono could take him in.

He was tended with kindness and sympathy, but largely left alone, because no one knew quite how to deal with him; they had taken in foundlings before, but never one like this. He was a handsome boy, and would have been most engaging if a child's natural enthusiasm ever lit up his face, but it never did. He was biddable and obedient, but disturbingly absent; he did precisely as told, gravely and silently. He showed no anger and did not cry. He heard and replied when spoken to, but met all eyes with a strangely adult, level, dark-grey gaze, perfectly calm, his eyes revealing nothing that lay behind them. When not bidden to do anything--in the free time the dojo's regimen permitted its students--he either remained in the boys' quarters, sitting motionless on his small futon, or practiced alone in the dojo with a startling, single-minded ferocity.

There was much quiet discussion, and some deep misgivings, but no real alternative, since the boy was Mariya-dono's kinsman, and had nowhere else to go. Only time and the grace of the Forgiving One could do for him what they could not. So, after ascertaining that he was not ill, and hadn't been drugged or poisoned by his family's killers, they left him to his own devices--not without some lingering unease. He was hardly like a child at all. He was like one found wandering in a mountain snowstorm, with the distant eyes of one kissed by Yuki-onna, the Snow Maiden, the giver of silent death.

The nightmare could never touch him while he was fighting, so he threw himself into it to the exclusion of all else. It grounded him, set his feet in the way of his oldest memories, when he had listened wide-eyed to his father's battle stories and slept with his wooden sword beside his bed. That was real. That was how he knew what a warrior would do. He would not hide and beg for pity; he would train and prepare himself, because there were enemies, they had shown themselves, and one day they would appear again. They had killed everyone around him, but now he was wary, and they would not kill him. He fixed himself on that thought, centered on it with all his strength. They would not, ever, get that chance.


	2. Chapter 2: falcon's bells

_**Sleepwalker**_, Chapter II: _falcon's bells _

(Disclaimer: I do not own _Samurai Champloo_ or any of its characters, which are copyright 2004-5 Manglobe and Simougusa Champloos; I just can't make them stop hanging around in my head...

Dedicated as always to Judy/Gecko and Ariel/Neko, who both know why.)

Edited July 2009 to purge it of fangirl Japanese.

* * *

Time passed quietly. The pattern of a dojo's year is serious and stable, based in slow, steady progress. Little by little, fraction by fraction, Jin began to take comfort in the unchanging routine, the calm and safety of his new home. The skills of Mujuushin kenjutsu are mental and spiritual as much as physical, and the masters spoke much more of transcending one's opponent than of slaying him. The smell of blood began to recede from his dreams.

He began, by slow degrees, to be aware just how much better than his fellow-students he was. What they took hours and days to master came effortlessly to him, from the simplest stance to the subtlest point of technique. The others muttered that it came from his unnatural single-mindedness, his disinterest in games or school or anything but kendo, but they said it looking at him sidelong, with an uncomfortable edge. They knew better. They could work as hard as Jin did from sunup to sundown and not stand where he stood. It came from inside him, this balance and focus, this skill to see all around and ahead of his object before its first move. He concentrated, he watched, and nothing escaped, could escape him, not by the least flicker. No one his own age lasted even one bout with him, and even the older boys became disinclined to spar with him after the first three met swift and humiliating defeat. He went on training alone, and they began to be afraid of his eyes.

In fact, it seemed the only one who didn't fear him was Mariya Enshiro, who took obvious pride in him and the growth of his talent. It was his master's regard that began to draw Jin's attention out of himself. His praise was frequent and sincere, his guidance generous; if it bothered anyone else that the sensei spent more time with Jin than with any other pupil, it bothered neither Jin nor Enshiro. It was a simple fact that no one else in the dojo understood more than Jin did about the only thing that mattered to him, and that made Mariya-dono the only human being able to hold the boy's attention. Enshiro, in turn, received Jin's precocious--if not preternatural--understanding of the finer points of kenjutsu with calm gravity, and spoke to him almost as an equal. It became a common sight to see them walking around the dojo grounds together and sitting in the formal gardens while the master discoursed on the writings of Masters Ichiun and Sekiun, the boy listening raptly. Some thought this rank favoritism from Enshiro, and shocking lack of respect from the Takeda brat; some remarked more kindly on the pleasure of finally observing life and feeling in the face and voice of the one they had long called the Ice Boy; no one missed the implications of this development for a sensei and schoolmaster who until now had neither son nor heir. Apparently, he had found one.

Under Enshiro's influence the boy at last seemed to find secure footing, and carefully, tentatively, opened. He began to address others without first being spoken to. He sometimes walked by himself in the gardens, instead of spending all his time at practice, asleep, or with the Master. His respect for Mariya-dono was beyong question, yet tempered by a shade of familiarity that would have been rank insubordination from any lesser student; he and the Master spoke openly together as comrades, even equals. As the years passed it became common dojo gossip that they were lovers.

But Mariya-dono was the only other being Jin thus acknowledged. Everyone else remained either completely neutral or an adversary. The dojo's _nanadan,_ Masters Sengai and Jisho, were given the grave courtesy of worthy opponents--indeed, they were his only regular sparring partners--but still faced the same icy wolf-gaze as anyone else who faced him on the training floor, week after month after year. They were graded masters, only one rank below a _hachidan sensei_ like Mariya-dono, but that cold stare gave them no quarter. One day he beat Sengai; one day, Jisho. And the day came, in his fifteenth year, when he beat them both in one match, badly.

They took their case to Enshiro, nursing their wounded pride as best they could. "Master, something must be done. Takeda-kun is gifted, of course, but his anger is a beast of terrible power. It will devour him if he does not learn to release it."

Of course, Mariya knew this, and had already begun to consider how it might best serve him and the dojo. The unquestioning loyalty of a student so skilled and courageous was a weapon no one would wish to keep sheathed. He had thought of sending him to observe other dojos, a common practice; it kept a canny master well abreast of his competitors, and was especially valuable if the observer you sent was strong enough to defeat the dojo's sensei in a single match. It would add greatly to the fame of Mujuushin kenjutsu if not only its master but even its best student began to amass an undefeated dueling record.

But --regrettably--his colleagues were correct. The boy was too fierce. His spirit would have suited a warrior of the last century better than a student in this age of Tokugawa peace. It would be a catastrophe if he were sent to covertly challenge some dojo's master to a simple duel and returned with the man's head. Nor was he at all certain Jin would never do so…

_No. I know exactly the man who can teach my war-falcon this lesson without binding his wings._

And so the fiercest soul of Mujuushin kenjutsu dojo left its confines for the first time in almost ten years, sent by his master to seek guidance from his serenest friend, Niwa Juunosuke.

Though of course he had obeyed without hesitation, he felt strange about the journey. He had never traveled anywhere, and he was anxious that he had somehow displeased Mariya-dono. The group of travellers that Enshiro had placed him with was a quiet one--a taciturn trader of fabrics and two monks on pilgrimage--so he was left to his own thoughts, and tried to keep them from being worrisome.

Fortunately, that wasn't very difficult. The constantly changing vista of the road was a new experience, by turns alarming and fascinating. He volunteered to sit the night watch, and was surprised at how peaceful and serene was the countryside night, starlit black and still, without dozens of boys snoring around one and the hour-candles burning down the time until dawn. When one of the others sat the watch, he slept untroubled, and went on refreshed in the morning. Perhaps this journey itself, he thought, was part of the path he'd been bidden to walk…

The journey was supposed to take two weeks, but the weather remained fine, and they made good time afoot. It had been but twelve days when they came in sight of the small red bridge Mariya-dono had told him to cross, which took him off the main highway, onto the road that led to Mihara and Gojuu Hall.


	3. Chapter 3: learning to breathe

_**Sleepwalker,**_ chapter III: _learning to breathe _

(Disclaimer: I do not own Takeda Jin, Niwa Juunosuke, Mariya Enshiro, or any of the characters and situations of_ Samurai Champloo,_ which are all (c) 2004-5 Manglobe and Simougusa Champloos. As always my love and gratitude to Ariel, Gecko, and the people who have read this so far.

**

* * *

_IMPORTANT NOTE: _** **Male x male sex scene in this chapter;** non-explicit and tasteful, I hope, but if the concept offends you, consider yourself warned.

Edited Julu 2009 to purge it of fangirl Japanese.

* * *

Years later he would still remember his walk up the neatly swept path that led to the main door of Gojuu Hall. All the sights and sounds of a smoothly-running dojo came to him as he walked: the thunk of wood and ring of steel, the masters' shouts, the boys running to and from their classes, a general mood of busy harmony. He was expected: a boy ran down from the house to collect his modest bag and conduct him to the Master. And most of all he remembered that: his first meeting with Niwa Juunosuke.

He handed over the letter that Mariya-dono had given him to deliver, and waited until he was bidden to enter….

("My esteemed Juunosuke: with this letter I introduce my best student and adopted son, Takeda Jin. I believe he is the finest swordsman I have ever had the pleasure of training. As you will see though, and as we have discussed, he is withdrawn and much troubled of heart. I have done all I can to befriend the boy and set his feet on the outer path, but I admit, I have never had your skill with things of the spirit. He is my chosen heir to the Mujuushin, but if we cannot bridle his anger, he will be a weapon far too dangerous to draw. Therefore I entrust him to you. I have confidence that when I see him again my war-bird will be at ease in his hood and jesses, ready to face the adversaries before him.

Until then, dear comrade, farewell from your far distant friend."

Niwa-dono read it through twice, frowning just slightly. _You profess concern, but I know you too well, old friend; your fear is louder than any word you write. That the boy's strength is too great, or too much his own, to be biddable to your will…hood and jesses indeed…_

"Send him in, Ihara."

The first thing Jin noticed was the man's eyes. He was so accustomed to Mariya-dono's first look at anyone who entered the room, a measuring, challenging glance, asssessing friend and stranger alike for his degree of threat. But Niwa-dono looked as if he had never felt threatened by anything. The dark eyes were calm and open as he stood and bowed courteously to Jin, bidding him welcome.

"I'm glad to meet you at last, Jin-san; Enshirou-san speaks so well of his adopted son. He asks me to see to your training personally, and I look forward to it."

Delivered with a warm smile, this was unprecedented informality and kindness, and Jin had hardly known how to respond. Nor did Niwa-dono miss his stumble. _Just as I imagined: Mariya gave him shelter and schooling, but barely more than charity beyond that until he proved to be valuable. --Ah, I can't help thinking like a father, can I? Poor boy…_

"I'm sure you're tired; we'll talk later. Ihara, please show Takeda-san to his room. --I hope you like the western light. I find it most soothing."

This was already more concern for his comfort and preference than he could remember being offered in his first entire year at Mujuushin, and he had thought about it the whole way to the end of the students' quarters. It was already plain that Niwa Juunosuke was an entirely different calibre of man from his master.

* * *

As promised, Niwa-dono handled his training personally, and it was like nothing he'd been taught before. The calm swordmaster had been quietly amused at his surprise. "You thought you came all this way just to learn more kenjutsu? No. We must bring your mind, your breath, into harmony with your body; it's been left far behind. The Mujuushin would elude you as you are now."

They dueled with wooden blades, stopping frequently as Niwa-san perceived him sinking into the grip of his usual rhythm. He must break that pattern, he explained, must not let that slow rise of cold rage become his only way with a blade. In the purity of the Mujuu one does not even see or react to his opponent, thinks not of kenjutsu as combat, only as a ceaseless flow of motion and energy. In these pauses, they talked, and the man's manner was so simple and unjudging that Jin told him things he'd never spoken of, about his nightmares, about the his vow to never stand defenseless, about how the touch of a sword was the only thing that could always repel the dark reek of blood.

And Niwa-dono had nodded, and shown him how to sit, back straight, hands empty, folded but not clenched. "Correct breathing can hold back these fears as well. It clears the way. Here--" he laid one light palm just under Jin's collarbone, one on his belly. "You usually breathe up high--here--"--a tap--"as if you were running. Inhale now, and let the air fill your chest up from the bottom, starting down here. Try it."

Jin obediently breathed, feeling the difference, the air slowly rising inside him like water poured into a jar, not rushed in and out…and another sensation as well, one from his far childhood, almost forgotten…

"You see, it takes more time, and so calms the mind. Again.--Is something wrong?"

He was sorry to have reacted, tried to explain. "Not _wrong_, just …Mariya-sensei never touches me."

The touch did not withdraw, but the man's even tone briefly rose with surprise. "Never at all?"

"Not since I was very little."

"And my old friend wonders why his son sees everyone as an adversary_….." _Sigh. "Forgive me if I've distressed you, Jin-san."

The same quiet, serious voice, but with just a shade of something new in the eyes…

"You didn't, Master Niwa."

And so while learning how to breathe he also re-learned how to be touched, presented to him any number of quiet ways a day: massage after sparring, bidding good-night, the Niwa twins' exuberant hugs and tackles. (The master had two sons younger than Jin, their mother long dead; his patience, he claimed, was a side benefit of long balancing dojo mastery with fatherhood.) The skin he had almost consciously frozen past feeling sensation came back to life, cautious day by day, and he remembered how to savor the feel of hot baths and morning sun.

To aid Jin in grounding himself, Niwa-dono decided to teach him meditation, and many quiet hours were passed sitting in the willow garden. Shingon Buddhism teaches that enlightenment can be reached in a single lifetime, and the shishou, an initiated master, now and then set a deserving student's feet on the path. He frequently practiced calligraphy as a meditation, and would sit tranquilly painting characters by the hour while Jin, sometimes several others, sat suspended in trance-state breathing around him. He listened to them all, but most closely and thoughtfully to Jin.

"You need not try to block out all distractions: distractions will always arise and you will exhaust yourself stilling them. Simply refuse to be affected. See them, note them, let them go. Remain silent and alert, noticing all, moved by nothing. Observe--" he flicked a pebble into the center of the circle, nodded in satisfaction as three pairs of eyes calmly followed it, heads unturned, posture unchanged--"and release. That is the way."

The small act of a breath contains volumes of wisdom, he told them: to exhale is compassion, the core of Jin's own name: it is to give, to release. To inhale is to accept, to take in life. We are reborn with every breath in a day. Take in; let go. The quiet words settled in, and Jin, sitting under the willows, learned to let go of his anger; he learned that the nightmares could be held at bay with his breathing as well as his sword. _Exhale. Let it go. Observe and release…_

He came to see that what he had thought was calm was only control, brittle and taut, always at risk of shattering. Real calm was supple, it was forgiving, it was like moonlight moving on water. Mariya-dono was controlled, but Niwa-dono was calm. He was seeing things differently, here at Gojuu Hall.

* * *

He wasn't sure how, but along the way he'd also endeared himself to Niwa-dono's sons, the twins Tatsunoshin and Kazunosuke--Tatsu and Kazu. Having no mother and having run their widowed father ragged for most of their lives, they were ready to have an older brother to bedevil, and found their ideal foil in their patient and disciplined house guest. Jin spent unexpected hours demonstrating basic katas to the rambunctious twins and eating impromptu late meals in their kitchen, and soon forgot to look surprised when one of them called him "big briother".

It was on just such an evening, washing the dishes in the Niwa kitchen with his sleeves tied back, and Niwa-dono drying and stacking--he thought it ostentatious to have servants--that the final thread fell into place.

"...Jin-san."

The man's tone was so quietly serious that Jin glanced up from his work. "Sensei?"

"I have a personal question." Pause. "You grew up in the Mujuu dojo. There were ...relationships there, I'm sure? Or at least you heard them spoken of."

A little stiffly: "I've never listened to others' talk, master."

Amused. "I don't mean that you attended to gossip. I mean that you knew what was meant."

"..Yes."

"In all that time, were you never approached by anyone? I know Mariya-san thinks of nothing but the sword"--still amused, wryly--"but did no other master offer you brotherhood? Or a younger student?"

A long moment. "I think…they were too afraid of me."

Niwa-san nodded. "As beautiful as you are, and as admirable in your skill, you were still too strange…"

Jin did not hear the compliment, gazed into the water unseeing. "I'm told that when I was small they held a special ceremony for me. They were afraid I'd heard Yuki-onna's song, and been enchanted." There was a deep ache in the soft, haunted voice. "People have always seen Death in me."

"And you feared they were right." Niwa-san touched his shoulder. "Jin-san, it grieves me to see your sorrow. I hope that by now you trust me. Would you pass one night with me?"

He raised a quieting hand against the startled look in the crystal-grey eyes. "Not tonight. There are things to prepare. I only ask if you will."

"I..."

Jin lowered his head, and Niwa-san stroked the back of his neck. "Dear Jin, you have carried so much alone. Please. I think it will ease your heart."

He took one step forward, and the lowered head pressed into the man's shoulder; a deep, deep sigh of relief and release. _Exhale. Let go_.

"I will."

_And inhale._

_

* * *

_  
Not that night, but three nights thence, they were together on the big futon under the east window. Painted screens set this side of the room apart for the night, and red sandalwood candles burned on the tall carved stands. It was about two hours until moonrise.

A smaller candle flickered under a soapstone dish of oil, adding to the room's fragance. Niwa-san dipped more warmed oil into his hand and returned to massaging Jin's back. Strong gentle fingers worked from the base of his skull down the long spine, telling its bones like a string of prayer beads, steadily, mindfully, one by one. The boy's breathing was so quiet he might have been asleep, but Niwa-san knew he was preparing himself. He knew what was to come, and perhaps, in spite of everything, he was afraid.

He glanced at the box that lay by the bed. The contents were simple. Spoiled and wealthy men addicted to nanshoku's pleasures sometimes had sets of a dozen, in ivory or other rich materials, graded delicately in size to prolong a boy's first opening for hours. But he had never had use for more than three, plain hardwood polished to a satin finish. Used with care they were more than enough. After all, their purpose was to spare pain, to make this first time gentle and easy, not to turn it into some perverse game.

He reached the base of Jin's spine, slid further down, rubbed warm oil into and around the opening there, and felt Jin tense just perceptibly…Yes. We begin.

Very slowly, more oil, and the smallest of the polished rods…

(Oil gleaming in the candlelight; an edge of panic in his sharp breathing; stop, ease away the fear, wait for balance. All so strange to him. He barely knows human touch, intimacy not at all. It takes all his will to permit the intrusion, calm himself, know that Niwa-dono can be trusted, even with this--

He is stronger than his fear. And he is so, so weary of feeling cold and alone.

The second one is easier. Niwa-san is still touching him, lightly with fingertips now, wide easy circles. His skin feels warm, glowing. He senses a new tension that isn't fear; stretches slowly, lets himself feel the sensation of the object inside his body. It doesn't hurt. It's almost….good. He breathes slowly and deeply. The man kisses the nape of his neck, and it tingles. )

As the bright edge of the moon rose over the trees he carefully withdrew the third rod, embraced Jin and raised him to his knees. Could not help but admire the warm flush that had spread through the pale skin, touched the strong pulse in his throat. Jin gasped for breath, leaned over with arms braced, trembling at the light caress. They had done well, there was no fear there, they were both ready.

"Remember," Niwa-dono told him quietly, "this will master you only if you let it. Let sensations rise, sweep over you, and pass on, like waves of the sea. Do not close them out; do not drown in them. Simply be here."

One last palmful of warm oil-- he folded his arms around Jin from behind, drew him close--

(And then a sensation like nothing before, that makes him cry out more in surprise than anything else, not in pain, no--the long and gentle opening has done its work. There' s only feeling and heat, and life; his body so long his alone, now shared. It doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts. He willingly arches into the warm embrace, meets the strong, deep movement with his own, and again. One of Niwa-san's hands covers his heart; the other slides down to fold around him, and he's almost lost in the intensity of pleasure--

--breathes out. Waves of the sea. The moment passes, not sweeping him away. )

There's a soft chuckle by his ear. "I knew you were strong enough."

(And they move in the smell of clove and sandalwood, until the moon clears the trees and floods into the room, until the ninth wave rises, and breaks.)

They lie together, Jin still cradled in Niwa-san's arms.

"I have a question.."

"Ask."

"Is it truly permissible, this? It has such power. Couldn't it be too great a distraction?"

"Oh, I've seen strong men become so distracted by it that they lost all their dignity, and worse. But when it's done mindfully, as we have, there's no danger in it. It's much wiser to deal with it than to ignore it. Besides.." he strokes the sleek head on his shoulder…"it gives pleasure and solace, which are great healers."

"Then…" he closes his eyes--"maybe.. before I leave here…"

_(Well, _Niwa-dono thinks in quiet amusement, so_ there really is a 16-year-old boy in there, after all…)_

"Of course we may."

--It had crossed his mind that he had usurped a privilege that rightly belonged to Jin's real master, and a more jealous man would have been within his rights to storm Gojuu Hall blade in hand to demand satisfaction for it. But he doubted Mariya-san would do so. The dojo held all his heart: not only had he never married, he'd never even taken a lover, student or otherwise, as long as Niwa-san had known him. Not even this one, who very few masters could have left untouched. No; he feared no reprisal from Mariya Enshirou…

What he was starting to dread was sending Jin back to him.

He had been in danger of sinking in grief and despair when his beloved Hiromi, his wife of ten years, had died of an illness, leaving him to raise two small sons alone. To distract his mind he had thrown all his energy into the dojo, and into being both parents at once to the twins. His tireless labor had succeeded handsomely: Gojuu Hall was acclaimed a dojo of the highest rank, and Niwa-san was so busy that he seldom even thought of finding a new companion. But then he had agreed to do a favor for an old friend, and been delivered this: a diligent scholar, a thoughtful and intelligent friend, the finest of sparring partners, the twins' adored brother-target-playfellow, and now…he sighed ruefully. He had almost managed to forget how lonely he was, until now.

He would, of course, never mention any of this to Mariya-dono. But if he ever heard that the Mujuushin master was mistreating his disciple, he promised himself, he would not be silent another moment.

* * *

He was not the same, then, when the day came, and he was standing by the red footbridge with his bag on his shoulder, looking at the three of them.

"Jin-nii, come back soon! Don't forget!"

"Yeah, don't forget us! We'll have learned a lot when we see you again!"

The twins couldn't be restrained, and flew at him, wrapping him in a double hug, words tumbling over each other as they fought to see who could get in the last word. Jin caught one in each arm and returned the embrace, smiling at their irrepressible energy. He was going to miss them.

"Thank you, Kazu, Tatsu…I'll see you again, I promise." Lifted one chin in each hand. '"And don't disobey your father so much. You're lucky to have him."

"We'll be good!"

"Well, _pretty_ good…"

"Boys," put in Niwa-san from behind them, and they straightened, bowed dutifully, said a subdued "sayonara" in unison, and scampered.

Niwa-san let out a deep breath, looked at him a moment, and bowed, with a warm smile.

"There is no more I can teach you, Jin-san. Go back to your master and walk the path proudly. Tell Mariya-san that I say he has set the Mujuu in the best possible hands."

Jin returned the bow. "I will always be grateful to you and your house, Niwa-san."

"And we to you as well." He reached into his sleeve. "I have a small token I hope you'll accept, in memory of your time here."

It was a bracelet of sky-blue beads, with a blue knot and small tassel; _nenju_ prayer beads, a temple token. "This comes from Daigoji in Kyoto, which is one of the central temples of Shingon, "said Niwa-dono, "and was made by the monks there. It will remind you of the teachings, and I think, keep you safe as well."

Touched, Jin bowed and slipped it onto his right wrist. "Thank you." And then could not remain formal, nor could Niwa-san; they stepped close and embraced, for a moment held tight.

"It's not easy to see you go." Kissed his forehead. "_Sayonara_, dear Jin. My house is open to you always."

'Thank you…Juunosuke-san." He leaned into him one last time, eyes closed. _"Sayonara_."

(He had almost said that he loved him. He wasn't sure why not. Perhaps it was too much, or too late. But it was in his mind: he loved this place, and these people, and Niwa Juunosuke most of all. He wondered how he would feel when he saw Mariya Enshirou again.)

(He thought of what Niwa-dono had told him, last night. One final thing I want to send with you, he'd said. It's admirable to serve, but not so to serve blindly. You have remarkable skill, and beauty as well: anywhere you go, men will watch you pass and think of ways they could use you. Think before you accept any commission. Ask yourself who will benefit, what good and what harm would be done. Then I think you will walk in the Way no matter where you go.

_..in the Way. Yes.)_

A final bow, and he turned, and crossed the red bridge.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who's read the first two chapters and been kind enough to comment on them.

Hope you will stay around as we head into the downward spiral...


	4. Chapter 4: snowflake and ghost part 1

_**Sleepwalker,**_ chapter 4: _snowflake and ghost, part 1  
_

(Usual disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Samurai Champloo, drat it, so all I can do is use them mindfully and with love...and a few other intentions. As ever massive gratitude to my _nakama_, Gecko and Neko, for their endless patience while I sweated this one out.)

Edited July 2009 to purge it of fangirl Japanese. --OK, except for the dates.

* * *

[mid-December_ (Junigatsu_) 1671.]

The opening-of-term ceremony was over and the path from the formal hall back to the students' quarters was full of excitedly chatting boys, comparing class lists, looking for last term's friends. Yukimaru wove his way steadily through the throng, ducked around a knot ahead of him, and saw too late that Saisashi was at the center of it. No chance of escape now; the rough-looking upperclassman had spotted him. He strode out and blocked Yuki's way, grinning.

"Yuki-san, you haven't seen my new sword yet. It just arrived this morning with a messenger from my family." He drew it from its sheath and presented it under Yuki's nose with a proud smirk. "Pretty, neh?"

Yuki sighed. Bright, shiny, Edo shinto steel. "Very nice, Saisashi-san." He tried to be on his way, but the older boy's grin had become a black scowl. He stopped Yuki with a hand on his shoulder.

"I suppose you don't think it's as good as that rusty relic of yours."

"Well, of _course_ it's not." Yuki tried to be patient. "It was made _last year_. You _know_ modern steel can't touch the Five Schools' work. And it's got--" he squinted at the frilly hamon--"what are those, maple leaves on it? Even you can't really---"

"At least my family can afford to buy me a new sword, instead of sending me to school with something that's been hanging in the hall for a century."

Oh, he'd just _known _the ignorant toad was about to get personal. He brushed the hand off his shoulder. "Saisashi--"

"--Excuse me."

A low, calm voice he'd never heard before. Yuki turned in surprise, had to look up to meet the eyes of the newcomer--striking, clear, dark grey eyes as calm as the voice, set in a pale, fine-boned face. He was taller than Yuki but looked no more than a year or two older, his long sidelocks neatly trimmed. Those eyes flicked over him in an instant, took note of the clan crest adorning his dark-green sleeve; slight, gracious incline of the head.

"Perhaps you'd draw your sword for us, Hojo-san."

Yuki bowed respectfully, making the same note of the other's indigo-blue. "--Takeda-san." And drew, with a very slight flourish, the venerable blade. He was so proud of it. It gleamed with a dark sheen of oil, its plain curve graceful as a willow bough, the hamon a simple, clouded wave.

"If I may?" --curious tilt of head, long hand extended; Yuki allowed him to take it. Who _was_ he? He was sure he'd never seen him before, and there was no way he'd forget this presence and face, certainly--

Saisashi's voice, dark, bitter laugh. "So you're back with us. _Monster_." The last word so quiet that he could pretend he hadn't intended the other to hear it, but clearly had. If he had, though, he gave no sign. Yuki would have stared at the _sempai_, had he not been absorbed in watching the beautiful stranger (--_monster?…) _study his beloved katana with a practiced and thoughtful eye.

"Without seeing the tang--" he glanced up at Yuki--"I would say this is a Masatsune, probably the first one, an early Bizen blade about four hundred years old. Is it so?"

"It is, yes. It was my father's and my grandfather's."

"As I thought. It's probably met **my **grandfather's." (The slightest smile; it was enchanting.) "It's seen long service--" he sighted along the elegant curve--"but is in admirable condition and polish. I'm honored to meet it." He bowed and handed the katana back to Yuki, who in quiet pride returned it to its saya, unable to resist a quick so-there glance at Saisashi--

startled to see he was staring at the tall boy with an expression he could barely believe, a mixture of envy, resentment and…fear. Not hate or anger, raw fear. What on earth?--

"Not that I expect _you_ to respect anything of the kind, Saisashi." And for an instant the calm voice sliced like a new-sharpened blade. "--If you'll both excuse me."

Yuki, staring at Saisashi's murderous expression, was still registering that his defender had known who he was speaking to when he realized he had gone. _And I didn't even say thank you!_ He pushed past the bully and took off after the other's long stride at a quick trot--(what odd looks he was getting from other students: surprise, studied indifference, startled intrigue…) --caught up beside him.

"--Takeda-san?"

Moment of wide surprise; he'd pulled him out of his thoughts. "_-_-What?"

"I'm sorry--I didn't thank you for speaking up for me. I do appreciate it."

"Oh--" He was oddly shy when not offering a learned discourse. "You're welcome. It was nothing."

"It was something to _me_." Sigh. "_I_ can never get him to hush like that."

Walked a moment in slightly awkward silence, then: "I'm surprised at his ignorance. Why was he insulting your sword?"

Eloquent snort. "Because he's Ashigaru, that's why. The only swords his family has, they made out of farm tools. Or bought on the streetcorner. Hmf. He talks a lot, but if he's samurai, I'm the Shogun's mistress--" --fell into embarrassed silence, suddenly realizing that they were near to the end of the path and he had been chattering the whole way, trotting at the Takeda boy's side.

"You're very outspoken." Mildly.

"And you're very quiet. I wasn't annoying you, was I?"

"No. You remind me of someone at the dojo where I've been studying." That little smile again.

"But you do live here?"

"I've been away, but--" glance around, unreadable --"I live here. --And this is my door."

"Oh!" really _had_ come all the way to the older students' quarters. "Then I will say sayonara and thank you again."

"You are most welcome. Sayonara." Polite bow before closing the door.

Halfway back to the junior students' quarters before he realized he hadn't asked his name…

* * *

So, he was home.

Jin set down his bag and folded onto the futon he had left a year ago, looked around at the big airy room lined with futons and chests and neat, spare belongings, feeling stranger than he ever had in his life. How could the place where he'd lived for so much of his life feel so foreign? The moment he'd passed the big willow and stepped onto the Mujuu's grounds he had felt wrong somehow: the path was unraked, the signboard a bit askew, there was an uneasy sense of disarray and neglect all around: had it always been that way, and he just too familiar to see it, or had things gotten somehow worse in the little time he had been gone? And if so, why?

And…

They didn't _like _him here.

It had been easy to forget that in the warmth of Gojuu Hall, where he was a welcome guest from the start and became almost one of the family; where no one knew the details of his past, or would have judged him so if they had. But here he could feel the old rumors and suspicions coiling back around him like some poisonous smoke, almost taste them when he breathed. In so many eyes the same old distrust, the same memories: he'd been so accustomed to it before that he'd never felt it, but now it was like a light crawling touch on his skin. Like Saisashi's bitter voice…

Saisashi. Always there with his whispers and dark stares, the only older student to challenge Jin again and again once beaten in the dojo; too afraid to confront him directly, inside a pack of fawning friends whenever you saw him, as if barricaded. It wasn't just the hurt pride of one defeated; he was _afraid_ of Jin, of what he believed Jin was. _So you're back with us, Monster…. _Hm. He'dprobably hoped he'd be killed by bandits on the road and never return, if such a thing can die. And in Jin's absence he'd apparently found a new target for his arrows…

…and hadn't _he_ been a welcome surprise, in the midst of all this. The bitterness eased a little at the thought of the grave, respectful tone, the open regard of the Hojo boy's clear dark eyes. How apt that he should be of that old clan, neighbors of his own, both friends and rivals for centuries; perhaps it was a foretelling.

_Too new here to have inhaled that poison…but the next time he sees me he'll have heard all the stories, and he'll never look at me again. Not the way he did. _

The thought cut surprisingly deep, and he stretched out on the futon, buried his head in his folded arms. _I **have** changed. Have I changed too much to live here?…_

_

* * *

_  
The moment Yuki he reached the general students' quarters he was assailed. "How did you do it? Everyone's talking about it."

"How did I do what?"

Everyone tried to talk at once, Tadayo beating Hiroshi to the lead. "Have a whole conversation with the Dojo Ghost! It's unbelievable! No one _ever_ talks to that one, but you just walk up and start chatting like his best friend--you're something else, Yuki-chan--"

"Don't _call_ me that." He dropped onto the futon, instantly surrounded by the curious faces of his classmates. "I didn't see anyone even _try_ to talk to him, but people stared at him as if he'd been dead or something, and Saisashi called him a monster! And what's this 'dojo ghost' thing about? Who **was** that?"

They exchanged glances. "--He-"

"Chea, of course you don't know, he's been gone the whole time you've been here." Tadayo drew himself up a little. "That"--very significantly--" was Takeda Jin."

Yuki thought hard. "Supposed to be the Master's favorite, isn't he?"

Their faces fell. "That's all you've heard? Yuki, that's not the half of it--that was _Takeda Jin_! The _mononoke_! The best fighter and the strangest kid ever to live at the Mujuu! It's been nothing but stories about him since they brought him here from the massacre--"

"--wait, wait! Akh!" Yuki had been planning to go to the dining hall, but this sounded much too good to pass up for mere food. He scrambled to his feet, hurried to the door and collected some fruit from the bowl on the entry table, dove back into the group. "All right, tell me, tell me everything."

And for nearly an hour, with utter relish, they related every single fable, rumor and fact that had gathered around his benefactor's name in the lore of the Mujuu. How he'd arrived one cold spring night of Mariya-dono's first year as Master here, a silent, trembling six-year-old, the only survivor of a clan-warfare bloodbath; how he'd responded to nothing until the Master gave him a training sword, and then suddenly showed such fearsome skill that the instructors themselves fell silent. How no one dared spar with him except the whispers, the stories…

Some said that while alone and surrounded by the corpses of his family he'd been kissed by the Death Goddess, and that what looked out of those uncanny eyes now was no human soul but a _mononoke, a _vengeful spirit craving revenge; some even hissed that the strange, cold boy had never been human at all, born with a demon's heart, that he himself had massacred the clan, man, woman and child alike. (Yuki thought of the calm voice, the clear gaze: who could think such a thing?…) Some even claimed that there was _kitsune_ blood in his family, that a woman wronged by his ancestor Takeda Shingen had prayed for revenge and been granted the powers of a fox-daemoness, and the child she bore to Shingen had nearly destroyed the clan; _look at this one, don't you think he could be part fox? And hasn't he a crime to avenge of his own?.._

"Oh, that _can't_ be true." Yuki was nearly breathless with delight.

Hiroshi nodded. "They say that last one's really so; in the Takeda histories, even."

"So most everyone in the place except Mariya-dono has kept their distance from him for years, and then for whatever reason he takes up for Yuki-chan in a spat with the dojo bully, and Yuki just runs right after him when he leaves! _Cool!" _Tadayo was enjoying this immensely. "I guess sending him off to Gojuu Hall really did teach him some human manners, since he didn't freeze you solid for your nerve."

"Well, I don't care what everyone has always thought of him," said Yuki firmly. "He was very polite to me, and put Saisashi in his place too, better than I could." Maybe they'd meant to put him off with their stories, but it hadn't worked; in fact, now nothing on earth could have kept Yuki from speaking to him again…

Hiroshi saw his expression and grinned. "Do you think he's handsome? Maybe he should be your elder brother. You're going to need one to keep Saisashi from grabbing you every chance he gets, the pig."

Pelted him with a peach pit. "Tscha, I just _met_ him, 'Roshi. And from what you tell me, he wouldn't be easy to court." Scowl. "--Saisashi doesn't even _like_ me, he just wants a boyfriend from an old family so he can shove him around. I'll cut his hand off one day, I swear."

"Get Jin on your side and you might get his whole arm. He's no friend of 'Sashi's." Quiet Hiroshi looked very serious. "All these horror stories are just smoke; what really makes him scary is how _good_ he is. Wait till you see him fight. You won't believe it. I've never seen anything like it, and my father's won a dozen duels."

"You mean it?"

"I mean it. He's probably the best the Mujuu has ever trained. I'd bet you my horse Mariya-dono is planning to make him headmaster one day."

Yuki finished off the second peach in silence. So the ghost-story legend of the dojo, who just happened to also be a gifted swordsman and the light of the Master's eye, had singled Yuki out for his first conversation in who-knew-how-long? Well, he had no intention of letting that be the only time. This was all far too good to let go of...

* * *

And when he got a next chance, he walked right up and took it.

The tall boy was walking, as before, along the raked stone path between the training halls and the students' quarters, and while he was not smiling, there was something in his face that suggested good news, at the least. So Yuki collected his courage and intercepted him.

"Good day, Takeda-san."

Just an edge of annoyance in his face, and Yuki prepared to bow out, but --to his delight--the edge faded markedly when Jin saw who was addressing him.

"And to you. Perhaps we should be introduced."

Yuki bowed. "Hojo Yukimaru."

"Those swords _have_ met, then.--Takeda Jin." Bow in return. "But it seems you knew that."

"My friends were amazed that I'd been talking to you." They were walking on side by side quite naturally, Yuki unable to ignore that there were turned heads and whispers because of it, Jin oblivious.

--Short sigh, lowered head. "I'm sure they were."

"You don't mind if I do?"

"--Did you have something to ask me?"

Yuki took it as read: _you may speak to me, but have a point. Fine, then._ "It's probably not my business; you just look in better spirits than yesterday."

Jin nodded, glancing at the Benten fountain as they passed it: two junior students were raking moss out of its courses and the water already flowed more clearly. "That needed doing.-- Sensei is pleased with my progress. He says he'll recommend my taking the junior instructor's examination, though I'm just seventeen. It's quite an honor." Half-look at Yuki. "I'll probably be one of your teachers, since you're new here."

Delight at this thought matched his amusement that Jin was so certain of passing the exam he was already assessing his future students. --"Well, congratulations! You should be proud."

Jin lowered his head: quiet, modest: "It's an honor to serve the Mujuu in any way." But Yuki caught the quick flash of his little smile, saw that he was, indeed, practically glowing with pride in himself. Grin: _I'm getting the knack of reading this one, I think…_

"So, is it permitted to watch the examination? I'd love a chance to see your work, especially if I'm going to be your student.--Which I hope," he added daringly.

He'd thought Jin would be flattered by this, but to his dismay, his face darkened. "I'd rather you didn't."

"But--surely I won't make you nervous?"

They'd come once again to the end of the path and the older students' quarters. Jin gave him a searching look. "Would you come in for a minute?"

"Of course," Yuki bowed, and Jin slid the door.

It was cool in the big chamber, lit only by late daylight filtering through the walls. Yuki had never been in the older boys' rooms, and noted that they were almost exactly like those for younger students, only less crowded--each one seemed to have as much space as allotted to two of his juniors. But they were set out just the same: enough floor space for a futon, a chest for belongings, and one modest piece of furniture: a cushion, a lamp, a deity figure. Yuki glanced around him, saw that most of the chests' lids had been either padded as seating or served as personal shrines, supporting small deities, incense burners and candles, mandalas in frames. Jin's own box, beautifully carved and painted with the floral version of the Takeda mon, bore a reading lamp, several scrolls, and an exquisite little Ryokai mandala, its detailed gilding bright even in the dim light.

Jin had pointedly left the door wide open, the universal dojo symbol that nothing private was going on within, and now leaned his shoulders into the door frame. He gestured that Yuki might sit, but he didn't, unable to read the moment clearly. He ached with distress that he'd said the wrong thing, and just now too, when Jin had seemed genuinely happy…

"I suppose you've noticed," said Jin, "that you're the only one who talks to me."

"Yes. And I--"

"I'm glad you do. I like it." The simple thing seemed a hard confession; Jin's eyes stayed on the dusty toes of his white tabi. "But it's just because you don't really know me. That's why I don't want you to see the test."

Yuki blinked, trying to hear everything that Jin had said, and not said. "You think I wouldn't speak to you anymore? But why?"

"You'd be afraid of me."

Not a boast or a threat: a simple, desolate statement of fact.

_Could it be?_ …"Is that really what this is about? All the ghost stories and--is _that_ why everyone stares at you so? For fear of your skill?" Couldn't keep back a small, disbelieving laugh. 'Takeda-san, are you _that_ good?"

"Yes."

Again, simple fact. Disbelief and laughter alike fell silent in Yuki at the stark weight of it. Jin raised his head, looked into his face, an unmistakable appeal in the shadowed eyes.

"--Yukimaru-san…so that we can talk a while longer…please. Don't ask me again."

Yuki made him a deep bow. "If that's your wish, of course not."

..looked at him standing there in silhouette, a line as graceful and keen as a blade, solitary, so pure, like something set apart by the gods; he was like a boy in a story, Yuki thought, who had prayed to become the greatest of swordsmen, learning too late that the one with that gift walked alone in the world, an enemy to all…

His throat was so tight he almost couldn't speak; he wanted to cry. "I won't ask. But--Jin-san--" it was so important to say this, to make Jin meet his eyes--"I wouldn't be afraid. No matter what I saw, I would speak to you again. I swear it."

Jin crossed in front of him, settled onto the futon crosslegged, folded into himself.

"Thank you--" almost inaudible--"Yukimaru-san."

Yuki bowed again and almost bolted the room.

* * *

He caught himself just in time--it would look terrible if he were seen running out of the older boys' chambers, especially if anyone had seen them go in (tsheh, he was getting used to the idea that there was a faction watching Jin like government spies…) --and walked fast down the path, mind racing. Aren't we all here trying to become as good with the sword as we can? Is it so wrong that one of us might be _very_ good, even now? He could hardly believe Jin's classmates could be so unsure and resentful, rejecting him for this reason alone...look how it's hurt him, though he tries not to show it…

Yuki stopped and leaned on the Benten fountain, her flow now clear and steady, trying to let the water's music calm him. It tore his heart to see Jin in such distress, so sure that Yuki too would turn from him, find his beauty too terrible in its true form--

No one had ever made him ache like this before…

He shook himself. _If you don't get out of the main path, idiot, in one minute the whole place will see you sniffling on the Goddess' shoulder, and you will never, ever live it down. Go somewhere else and cry. **Anywhere** else. _

He had a favorite spot in the peach orchard that no one else knew; he turned to head there--

And, of course, walked straight into Saisashi. Alone, yet.

_That's it. I'm cursed. I'm going to move back to Izu and become a beekeeper._

"Yuki-san, whatever is it?" The bastard couldn't even pretend to hide his glee. "Fight with your new boyfriend already?"

"Mou! Leave me alone." Trying to shove past him--

'Sashi grabbed his shoulder. "Remember what I said, when you see what he really is. Remember it, Yuki."

"Pig," snapped Yuki, "don't you dare _mention_ him." And went running for the orchard path, not even caring that now, blast it, it would be all over the dojo by dinnertime.

* * *

Darkness had fallen, but Mariya Enshirou had not yet lit the lamps in his room. It would only be a gesture, even if he had: no material light would make the path of his thoughts any clearer.

He hardly knew where to begin. A dozen students had not returned for the winter term, sending letters of polite resignation. There was too much to do at home, they were needed in their family businesses or estates, they had no real use for the sword; or, more damning and painful, they were taking up study at another school. A _practical _school. One that would teach them simple fighting skills, Yagyu-ryu perhaps, something dull but useful.

Mariya sighed grimly. The dojo could scarce afford to lose anyone, let alone so many. Already it had begun to look shabby around the edges; it shamed him, but there was only so much maintenance the students could do and still keep up their classwork. He would be patching the roofs himself next--not that honest work was any shame, but…

And he doubted next year would be better. The country was at peace, and seemed likely to stay there. Battle-tested warriors were working as bodyguards for merchants and noblewomen, and counted themselves lucky to have any masters at all---and those were plain fighting-men, not Zen artisans of pure technique like the ones training here. He wondered bleakly where this next class would go, the novices just started here, when they stepped out five years hence--let alone if they chose to stay on. He blessed the faith they'd shown by enrolling here, but was he repaying their faith with something they couldn't use? Was his worst fear coming to pass, and the high, serene beauty of the Mujuu losing its place in the practical world? He believed in it with all his heart, always would believe, but it was hard fact that even the noblest technique must pay for the roof over its head. If they lost more students next term, or did not gain new ones…

And there were dark rumors in the air, word from other schools that they had received strange visitors, been made startling offers. Gojuu Hall, for one, by Jin's account: Niwa-dono had sent the stranger on his way with a firm refusal, but had been disturbed and uneasy, and that in itself was a warning. Something was afoot, something poised to take advantage of the changing times and the dojos' worries, and he didn't like the smell of it. If such an offer came here…_grant me strength, Ancestral Masters…_

At least Jin would be taking an instructor's post soon, which would relieve the burden on his already overworked and underpaid _nanadan._ He'd insisted that Jin accept at least a token salary, but they both knew it was only to ease his sensei's pride that Jin had agreed: he'd argued that his living expenses were already covered by his residence here, that he had no others, and that--Merciful One guard him--he would gladly work for nothing to serve the Mujuu and his master. That at least had sounded like the old Jin.

_The old Jin…_Mariya rubbed the tight knot between his eyes. He'd had two conversations with his adopted son since he'd returned from Gojuu Hall, and was still unsettled by them. He had, of course, expected the boy to be changed: that had been the point. But…

He met your eyes so directly now, answered you with confidence; quiet still, but with the stillness of deep water, not brittle ice. He had always spoken to his _shishou_ more familiarly than any other dared, and it had been charming in a precocious boy, but now it felt oddly unsettling. And there was no fear in him now. That had truly startled Mariya. The haunting darkness that had always been there, deep in his eyes, under his voice, was gone.

And he knew he'd been counting on it.

He'd expected something else, and had miscalculated, badly: he'd underestimated both his finest student and his oldest friend, and that was almost the worst of all. Niwa-san had not tamed his falcon's temper and sent him home to serve, but found in him what Mariya had never seen, given him back something lost. He was stronger. Less erratic, less unstable and troubling, yes; but that look in his eye that said he cared nothing for his own safety, would do anything his Master willed, heedless of reason or pain…somehow Niwa-san had washed it away.

_You have healed him, old comrade, as I asked. But I fear he was more useful to me broken... _

If the worst came…if he needed a weapon fiercer than any other…had he thrown it away? Would a whole Jin, a loyal and willing disciple, be as fearsome as the cold-eyed wolf had been? What had he done? Was he sorry?

He sighed, and lit the lamps. He had letters to write.

* * *

--Chapter 4, part 2 follows directly.

Small footnote: this use of "elder brother" is a bit more specific than the previous one. It was common for an older dojo student to 'adopt' and mentor a younger one, protecting him from harassment and bullying as well as guiding him in his studies; partners in such a relationship would typically call one another "big brother" and "little brother." It was also common for these relationships to become romantic and/or sexual; bonds forged in this way could last a man's entire life, even alongside a conventional marriage.)


	5. Chapter 5: snowflake and ghost part 2

_**Sleepwalker,**_ chapter 5: _snowflake and ghost, part 2_

(Usual disclaimer again. Thanks again to my dear friends and to everyone who's written me a review. Reviews r good. )

Edited July 2009 to purge it of fangirl Japanese. OK, except for the dates.

* * *

It would take, Jin had told Yuki, several weeks to arrange the examination. Three masters of at least _nanadan_ rank were required, one to administer the test and two to observe and score, and Jin's own shishou could not be one of them. The dojo was filled with the excitement of hosting such an event. Couriers with letters to and fro were a common sight in the Mujuu's yard for days, and students scurried to bring them water, to hear from whom they had come, and what their message was. Yuki's curiosity threatened to eat him alive; he bribed his way into yard and kitchen duty to be the first to see a messenger arriving, and thus was the first to know that Niwa Juunosuke would be their guest for three days.

"But he was Takeda-san's teacher for a year, doesn't that count?"

"Seems not, since Gojuu Hall doesn't stand to gain anything by Jin--um, Takeda-san's raising his rank. That's what the difference is, not who trained him." Yuki glowed with inner happiness; the way Jin's face had lit up when Yuki relayed this news had made three days of sweeping walks and scrubbing carrots a mere trifle. He hoped he'd get a chance to meet Niwa-dono himself; his was the only name that always made Jin smile, and Yuki had come to realize how rare that was.

He was determined to see the examination somehow, to prove to Jin that his worries were groundless. It was sneaking around the wording of his promise, of course. _I promised not to **ask **him to let me in, not that I wouldn't try to get in some other way_. But he was sure Jin would forgive him if he stepped up and looked him in the eye afterward…

Once the three examiners were confirmed--a _heijo muteki-ryu_ master, a _yagyu-ryu_ master from Edo, and the _shinkage-ryu_ master, Niwa-san--the time passed in a spin of activity, as the dojo was cleaned and polished from end to end to receive its distinguished guests. The Master's face lost the weary harried look it had borne for so long, gazing with undisguised pride on the Mujuushin Kenjutsu at its handsomest, from trimmed hedges to waxed floors. Jin insisted on being part of the effort until three days beforehand, then disappeared, and even Yuki did not see him until the evening before the test.

When, to his surprise and delight, he appeared at his side as Yuki walked back from the evening meal. "Yukimaru-kun?"

"Jin-san! I thought you were still meditating under the waterfall, or something."

"I've finished that part." He actually smiled. It felt absurdly good to see him, and see him so happy. "Do you have a moment to see something?"

Well, of course he did. And he stood by the futon as Jin carefully cleared everything off the top of his carved wooden chest and opened the lid. "I've never worn it--" he lifted a few things and drew out a parcel--"but I think this is a formal enough occasion…what do you think? Is it too much?"

Yuki caught his breath as Jin unfolded the bundle and held it up. It was one of the most beautiful kimonos he'd ever seen, a deep, subtle blue-green silk, embroidered with golden dragons breathing clouds of glowing fire. "Jin-san, that's wonderful. Of _course_ you should wear it. If only so I can see you in it."

"Yukimaru-kun, I'm _serious_." Gently reproving. "Do you really think it's appropriate?"

"_Yes_, I think it's appropriate. The Master's had his formal kimono cleaned and pressed, and you know he doesn't wear that all the time. So you can dress up too, I think." He admired the handsome fabric, stroked it with light fingertips. "…I really do want to see you in this."

"..I could put it on now..."

Yuki looked into his face, hoping he'd heard what he thought he did. Endearingly, suddenly shy, but he met Yuki's eyes in response…

"--I'll help you tie it."

This time Jin slid the door shut.

Yuki did his very, level best to be circumspect and useful. After all, it wasn't _that_ intimate. They didn't need to strip him to the skin, only to his white second-layer juban. Besides, there were a few other students in the quarters, reading or asleep or pretending not to watch, and he didn't want to embarrass either of them. But being this close to Jin, being outright invited to touch him, made him tremble so hard he was clumsy with the knots; the older boy had to notice. He stood straight and still, politely not mentioning that Yuki had tied his under-sash four times now.

"--there." The belt was neat at last and held the waistline up in a graceful drape. "Where's your _heko-obi_?"

Jin handed him the wide silk sash. Yuki, behind him, had to reach forward to put the thing around his waist…

It was just too much; he knew if he did it he wouldn't let go. He stood immobile, the sash hanging from his fingers.

"Yukimaru-kun?"

"Maybe you should do this part yourself--"

"Go ahead."

He got as far as reaching up on both sides of Jin's waist again, and couldn't move, didn't dare--

Jin turned in his arms and drew them together. "…shh. You're shaking."

"I can't help it. I can't even think when I look at you." Yuki held him, could hardly believe he was holding him, leaned his cheek against the cedar-scented silk. "You are so beautiful, Jin-san."

"I'm not. I look like a wolf. My bones are too sharp and my eyes look angry whether I am or not. I'm too harsh to be beautiful." He stroked Yuki's shoulders, as carefully as if he'd break. "It's you that's beautiful, little snowflake."

Suddenly absurdly happy. "Oh, I _like_ that."

"No one else calls you that? I thought it was obvious."

"Just 'Yuki-chan'. Yours is much nicer." It no longer even seemed unusual that they were standing here in each other's arms; it felt comfortable and right; he wasn't shaking anymore. He didn't care if the others were watching, or what they thought if they were. He drew a long deep breath, absorbing the fragrance and the gentle strength surrounding him; it was like finding something you didn't even know you'd missed.

"Snowflake, then." Jin leaned his head against Yuki's for a moment, let him go, smiled that little smile. "Can you put my _heko-obi_ on now?"

Somehow he hadn't dropped the ornamental sash. "Of course." And this time savored wrapping it around him, smoothing it over the plain belt and managing the big knot in back. Stepped back with pride in his handiwork. "There! Elegant enough for the shogun's hall." One last tug. "_Now_ tell me you aren't handsome."

Jin drew his knife and critically surveyed the reflection in the blade. Yuki smiled to himself. The formal robe had the odd effect of making him look younger, so serious, like a boy being very dignified in his father's clothes. And the deep jade color made his grey eyes look as green as a summer forest. No matter what he thought, he was lovely. _I'll bet he's never been kissed…he's been practically a monk since he was six…_

_Next time. This is too soon. But next time I'm going to kiss him._

_

* * *

_  
(Carefully hanging the green kimono before blowing out the candle, Jin was still smiling to himself. Truly, how he'd have gotten through these weeks of preparation without the boy's company, he had no idea. He had understood the importance of concentration and practice, yet he'd always managed to distract Jin just when his worries were growing too intense. There was no one else here like him; he was as serious about the sword as anyone, yet he could be so young, as impulsive and affectionate as a child. He did remind Jin of Katsu and Tazu, and that also made him smile: if they wouldn't have caused the approximate havoc of a typhoon, he'd have genuinely hoped they'd accompany their father._ I pity whoever Niwa-dono had to leave them with to come here; I'm sure they used every possible argument to be brought along._

His little brothers…and that too brought his thoughts back to Yuki. He didn't have an _onii-san,_ in fact had pointedly rebuffed the only one who'd tried to court him. (With good reason too.) And he was everything Jin could have asked of a younger brother_: _the son of an old and noble family, a fellow-student and a genuine friend, as well as…

..deep, thoughtful sigh. It had felt so good to hold him. Jin had never liked to be touched, before Gojuu Hall; it had felt vaguely irritating and aggressive, like a too-loud voice. But the moment that had just passed… he let himself imagine many more moments like that, and the thought felt as good as Yuki's soft hair against his cheek. _I could ask him; I don't think he'd refuse.._

He shook his head ruefully. Here it was, the night before the most important duel of his career so far, and he was thinking about a boy_. (But they do say even the Shogun does that.)_

_After this is all over, and things are a little calmer, I'll ask him, _he promised himself, smoothing the sash neatly; and blew out the candle.)

* * *

The day for the exam dawned cold and clear. There had been some worry of a snowstorm making the roads slow and difficult; but it had left only a dusting of snow, icing the Mujuu in sparkling white, and the guests all arrived by midmorning. Taira Shigehide, the _yagyu-ryu_ master, walked punctually up the path within the hour his letter had estimated, a big, burly man with a gruff warrior's manner, only one attendant bearing his luggage. Torii Daisuke, the _heijo muteki-ryu_ master, was in contrast tall and elegant, his long hair braided with red silk, and accompanied by two aides nearly as handsome. (Yuki nearly smothered himself to keep from laughing out loud at Tadayo's romantic sighing.) And finally, traveling alone, the third of their guests: a lean, bearded man, who gazed around the Mujuu as affectionately as if it were his childhood home. Niwa Juunosuke, the _shinkage-ryu_ master, the one Yuki most wanted to watch.

Severe and formal in his indigo clan kimono, Mariya-dono waited to welcome the masters at the door, Jin standing staff-straight at his side. (Yuki stifled a yawn; he'd had to sneak out practically at dawn to help Jin into the dragon kimono and matching gold hair band, but the sight of him was well worth the lost sleep. Even the Master looked impressed.)

A meal had been prepared to honor their guests: then the masters would retire to their rooms to rest and prepare, and the test would be given that afternoon. The day's classes were cancelled, and speculation became the order of the day in the student quarters.

Tadayo broke out his stash of sweet rice crackers, a present from home; they lit the big hour-candles for more warmth, sat clustered on their futons and analyzed what they knew or guessed of the match to come. Jin probably wouldn't fight Niwa-dono, everyone agreed, since they'd trained together, so it would be either Torii-dono or the yagyu master. And since yagyu-ryu was to the Mujuu as hammer to needle…

"Torii-dono, then." Tadayo crunched a snack and sighed. "The _heijo muteki-ryu _is supposed to be almost pure Zen. I would give a year's allowance to see that match…are we sure it's closed?"

"Closed for sure," confirmed Hiroshi. "Yuki-chan says even **he **wasn't invited." Meaningful sidelong grin; Yuki had not told them anything exactly, but they weren't blind. "--Seriously. Examinations are private, no one knows the results till the masters give their decision." He looked pointedly at Yuki. "It'd be very bad to get caught spying in there."

Yuki gazed back innocently. He had no intention of getting caught.

* * *

Mid-afternoon. The smaller training room had been cleaned and polished from end to end, its floor gleaming, its banner and shrine brushed and straightened, the window-paper re-oiled for maximum light and extra candles in stands--darkness came on early these winter days. Table, fresh tatami mats for seating, paper and ink and brushes all stood ready for the judges. Even the little curtained closet under the shrine shelf had been swept out and its floor buffed, the smell of fresh lemon oil nearly stifling in the small enclosed space. But the fumes were worth it for the best seat in the house. Yuki carefully parted the curtains a bare half-inch; he wouldn't dare move them again once it began.

The door opened and they walked in single file: first Mariya-dono, then Masters Niwa, Torii, and Taira, and finally Jin, all now in plain working dress. Yuki grinned to see that they'd guessed right; only the _shinkage _and _yagyu_ masters sat at the table with Mariya, while Jin and Torii-san faced each other. Their _nanadan_ master Jisho entered last, carrying a weapons-rack, which he left at the side of the open space with a deep bow. One bokken, two blades.

"The candidate must demonstrate complete knowledge of the first and second level kata, and clarity of style, plus prudence and forbearance, self-control, and perfect fairness to his opponent. Bear in mind that we are assessing his potential to teach, illustrate, and mentor, not merely his skill at the duel. " Mariya folded the sheet, looked around the room, received a nod from each of the four. "--Begin."

The tall _muteki-ryu _master and Jin bowed to each other, and Jin stepped forward. He slid one foot ahead, raised the bokken, and swept through the first set of kata in a single, fluid movement, just slowly enough to show that each was fully executed. His face was as calm as an ivory Buddha's, his balance was grounded and centered, he was as purely in his element as a fish breathing water. The room was utterly silent, the observers never blinked. Jin proceeded through the second set of kata: just a fraction slower, as suited the more complex moves, but still in a single flow of motion as precise as a temple dancer's. Completed, he bowed again, and stepped back.

As two brushes made tiny swishes of sound on paper, Yuki realized he'd completely forgotten to breathe. Afraid? He'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

Bokken traded for blades, and Torii-dono advanced. It was instantly clear he was an ideal opponent for a Mujuu-trained fighter, moving with controlled, feline grace. Yuki regretted Tadayo couldn't watch the _muteki-ryu _master at work; his long braid lashed like a tiger's tail as he slashed through the opening movement of a classic single-combat sequence, and then they engaged--

And Yukimaru finally began to see what it was all about, the talk, and the whispers, and the stories. He could not move or breathe, transfixed. Torii-dono was a _master_, and from a school nearly as subtle and refined as the Mujuu; but Jin was as fast, as deft, the two blades flashing like one stream of light. He advanced on Jin, pressed him only a moment, and then was forced back, a pace, two, by the intricate rush of the younger man's attack, the blade swirling like a blizzard. He recovered, came on again, and this time was held in place. Torii-dono's eyes steeled, and he shifted his grip, moved forward steadily, his light blade now nearly invisible in its swift subtlety, backed Jin down step by controlled step. Jin, Yuki saw, would not be forced to anger and assault, but gave way gracefully, steadily blocking and parrying; Torii-dono deliberately opened his guard, Jin blocked the pulled blow, one straight move, and the master stepped calmly aside. Jin withdrew in turn, as calmly, and final bows were exchanged.

_Merciful One, they weren't just telling me stories._ He shot a glance at Mariya-sensei--surely he must be filled with pride and joy in his favorite's skill--and what he saw chilled his heart. The Master's face was a tense, unreadable mask, one almost of…alarm? Anger? Could it possibly be fear?

_Oh, not you too, shishou--_he prayed Jin wouldn't look at Mariya, and he did not, only stood with lowered head, breathing deeply. The _muteki-ryu _master walked over to him and said something with a smile that brought Jin's head up; another small bow, and Torii-dono went to the table to add his scores to those already compiled by the others. Only then did Jin look to his master for approval, and by then, thank all gods, the man had composed his face into a calm and confident smile. The masters commenced to discuss the test quietly amongst themselves.

Yuki did not know what to think. He dropped back into the alcove, away from the curtains, his heart racing as if he'd fought the duel himself. Mariya-dono's distress, disturbing as it was, seemed a far background noise to what was filling his head. Jin had held a master of a high-grade school at bay for nearly half their battle; had given ground only when the man had plainly moved to a higher level than he'd expected to need against a schoolboy of 17; had never lost his temper, struck in anger, made even a single wasteful move, a true mind-warrior of the _mujuushinken-ryu_…and oh, gods, the way he moved…

_So he thought I'd avoid him once I saw this? He'll see. As soon as I can get him away from all these people, I swear I'll kiss him until neither of us can **breathe.** _

He heard sandals scuffing on the tatami mats, conversation, departing footsteps; the writing lamps and floor candles went dark; it was all over. He held back until there was silence, then peered cautiously out--_-_

No; two had lingered behind in the now-dim hall. Jin and Niwa-dono.

He ducked back behind the curtain, ashamed of himself for wanting to see, but not so ashamed that he'd miss it. The bearded master was speaking warmly to Jin, smiling, every bit as proud and fatherly as Mariya-dono had strangely not been. Jin too was smiling, and that alone was worth lurking in a cupboard to see. Had Jin and the Master once been this way too, when together and unobserved? Tried to picture their stern teacher smiling so, even at his favorite…not possible, even before, and even less so now, it seemed…

The talk turned serious, and Niwa-dono's face looked grave, Jin watching him with concern. Yuki was desperately curious: trouble at the other dojo? How strong _was_ Jin's connection to the place? But then the smile returned again, this time more thoughtful, and Niwa-dono placed both hands on Jin's shoulders, looked into his face. They stepped into a close, gentle embrace, and Yuki quietly exhaled. An ape could see it: the man loved Jin and keenly missed him. Perhaps Jin even felt the same.

Then Yuki saw what they did not: Mariya-dono standing just outside the door, his face once more that unreadable, frightening mask, his gaze held for a long moment on the two before he turned and strode away.

* * *

When he was certain everyone had gone, he darted from the practice hall and took the longest way round, all the way behind the stables, to reach the students' rooms by the back path. The moment he raced in he was assailed, as expected.

"You got in! We knew it! You're _crazy_, Yuki--"

"Here, we saved you some dinner, tell us everything. Every second." A straw tray of grilled fish and vegetable rice was pushed across the mat, but Yuki was too full of his story to think about food. He settled onto the mat, tried to collect his buzzing thoughts.

"You were right, Tada, it was Torii-dono he fought--"

--When he had told the whole thing three times with many pauses for exact detail (and he gave them every one except the last five minutes), discussion commenced, and he set to his cold but very welcome meal--when had he last eaten, anyway? --with an ear on the talk. No one had doubted that the Dojo Ghost would pass the test, but there was universal awe that he had seemed a match for the _muteki-ryu _master, and Yuki heard that edge of unease, cold and thin as a first new moon, in a voice here and there. _He's **too** good…it's just not possible…not right somehow…_

It made him want to slap them. No, it made him want to see Jin. Right now. It made him want to throw his arms around him and prove everyone in the place wasn't such a spooked colt. Oh, how long would it be before he was back in his room? Yuki checked the hour-candle; he knew Jin had had to attend the formal meeting after the test, where the masters would discuss his performance and pronounce his score. He was shocked to find it had been barely three-quarters of an hour since he'd returned from the test; it seemed like hours already.

He held still another quarter hour, and then couldn't stand it; he would walk by the older students' rooms and see if Jin was back yet. And if not, he might just wait. Anything was better than sitting here. Little twinge of regret; _if he does become one of my teachers, there'll be no more visiting his room at all hours, I'll bet…I'm going to miss it…_

Hiroshi glanced up sharply as he rose. "I know what you're thinking, and you shouldn't."

"Try and stop me."

Caught his sleeve. "One thing, then. Was I right? Did you ever see anything so amazing in your life?"

"Never," Yuki swore earnestly, "even half as amazing."

Hiroshi grinned and released the sleeve. "Probably looking for you. Go."

* * *

He ran along the rock path, breath clouding in the cold, bright moonlight catching in spots of frost. No light in Jin's room, no shadow. Oh, _curse_ it. He glanced around; where could he perch himself to wait that wouldn't be too obvious?--

"Looking for someone, Yuki?"

He jumped, though he knew the voice. 'Saisashi, do you do _anything_ except follow me around?"

'Sashi grinned; two of his bigger and stupider friends materialized from the shadow, the shadows, one at each elbow. "Your Takeda boyfriend's not back yet. They're probably still passing the sake' and praising him to each other. Passing him around too, for all I know." (His voice was harsh and a little uneven; maybe, Yuki thought scornfully, he'd had a few shots himself just to get up the nerve to come here.) "So--finally got a good look at him? And still haven't realized what he really is?"

Coldly, intensely angry, he couldn't hold back. No point wondering how Sashi knew he'd seen the test; it probably wasn't too hard to guess. "I _do_ realize it. That's why I'm here to see him. And if you can't understand that--if you don't see how beautiful that is--there's no way you'll ever be samurai."

"Oh, _won't_ I." Spat on the rock path, a bitter edge to his voice. "Beautiful, neh? All that a samurai should be. Someone worthy of you and your five-mon bloodline. " He took a step forward, looked Yuki in the eye, and suddenly there was something there Yuki'd had never seen in him before, something almost like pleading.

"Yuki. Listen to me just once. I know what you thought you saw, but…you can't believe it. That's not skill and training, that's…Yuki, that thing isn't human. It's not. It's too good with a sword to be. It's too damn _quiet_ to be." He clenched his fists helplessly, looked into Yuki's face as if willing him to understand. "It's _never_ been right--"

Yuki stared at him, unbelieving. He'd expected scorn and slander, not this weird, raw terror; Saisashi sounded as if Jin were the stuff of his nightmares. Having started, it was as if he couldn't hush, the words, the fears spilling out:

"That's why you need to think about this, think really hard, Yuki-chan. Are you sure you want that touching you? Do you have any idea what it might want with a boy? _Really_ want?" Yuki was speechless; Saisashi reached out and drew Yuki's long hair slowly through his fingers, watching the moonlight play along it as if mesmerized. His voice was a shade calmer when he spoke again.

"My family's very well placed, I'm in line for quite a respectable position when I graduate from the dojo; it'd be to your advantage to consider my--"

Appalled beyond words, Yuki finally found his voice. "--Shut up, Saisashi. Shut **up."** Pulled away from him, stood glaring, almost breathless with insult and disgust. "I'd rather be alone the rest of my life than belong to the likes of you."

"I'm as much samurai as you! And I'm--"

_Not a ghost. Not a monster._ The quiet beauty whose hair he'd put up that morning; the fierce and graceful warrior he'd watched duel Torii-sama to a standstill; it was too much. Yuki reached for his sword.

"Take that back_-- farmer_."

With the sting of the insult all the dread and pleading left him, and Saisashi touched but didn't draw his blade; long, steady look at Yuki.

"You know, " slowly and coldly, "I am so sick of you purebred brats with your old names and your grandfathers' swords, walking around like you're something. You're _nothing,_ Hojo. It's centuries since your family amounted to anything more than a line on a scroll." Reached for Yuki's hair again; Yuki yanked away, glowering.

"At least now you're honest, pig."

"Face it, Yukimaru. The only chance you have of being anything but poor and helpless is to bed with someone like me--part of the future--"

"Never."

Face twisted into a dark, angry mask. "Just for that I'll make you beg for it." He drew, both stepped back three formal paces, Saisashi rushed and swung--

--gleam and chime of blades, turned to come on again. He was slow, but strong, meeting that blow had made Yuki's shoulders ache, but now--they circled--

"You know you're lucky I've never just cornered you and fucked you. I _know_ I'm stronger than you are."

"I'd kill myself before I'd let you in me." His voice was shaking with fury; he prayed it didn't sound like fear.

"Remember you said that when I have you on your knees, pretty Yuki."

He came in fast, low, Yuki stretching for a defensive lunge on the run, almost stumbling--

* * *

Jin was returning from the masters' meeting, walking fast with his head lowered, and not just because of the cold. He'd done well--he'd known that even before he heard the score; he'd kept his balance and his breathing in hand throughout, taken and given ground equally, and there had been not one break in his kata, he was sure of it. And the masters had been unanimous in their praise; every one had said that he was a credit to the Mujuu, the youngest accredited instructor they'd ever passed…

So what was so terribly wrong? Why was he shaking like this? Was it the things Niwa-dono had told him about Gojuu Hall, the threats he had received there, the stranger he had sent from his door; was it the way he had said goodbye to Jin, as if for the last time? Was it…why had Mariya-dono been so reluctant to look at him, so strange and aloof from him, when he was sure he had done his very best?

Could the Master be angry at him? Had he done _too _well? What gave him this dreadful feeling, this deep, severing chill, too much like the one he remembered? He had sat at the table surrounded by these strangers--all of them feeling strange to him, even his beloved shishou--and had tried to be courteous, but he'd felt as if the floor was tilting under him, preparing to drop him into invisible darkness...finally he'd been able to plead fatigue and leave without insult, and now he was practically running back to his room, wanting nothing but its silence.

Had he failed every moment of the test he could not imagine feeling any worse--

And then he heard the ring of steel on the raked path ahead of him, and an old voice spoke up inside him, one that matched this dark clutch of cold on his heart. _Good, an enemy; they won't find me unarmed._ In his despair he let it speak, deep and familiar, the only thing that had kept back the nightmares, the smell of blood. _Yes. Let them come, then_. And he ran on without hesitating, recognizing the fighters' angry voices as he came near, sensing the tone of the fight like a scent in the air. _Saisashi. Saisashi and the one he already longed to protect._ It was a relief, something understandable and real, without doubt. He came on fast, drawing his sword.

* * *

Sudden flash of a third blade that deflected both theirs off and up harmlessly, a blade and a gleaming, dragon-embroidered sleeve--

Saisashi's voice was no more than a snarl. "Keep out of this, _mononoke."_

Yuki didn't even look at him, circling, not wanting to lose eye-contact with Saisashi. "Let me fight him, Jin!"

"You let him provoke you." Voice cold and winter-night still. "We don't brawl with trash like this." So fast neither saw him move, the tip of Jin's katana was poised under Saisashi's chin. "You know what the ashigaru fight with, Yuki? Lance and bow. And the matchlock." The word was a spit of venom. "_Guns_. And kitchen steel like that." Eloquent toss of the chin in the direction of the deflected blade.

"You're calling my sword a kitchen knife?"

The gleaming point moved closer. "Your sword **_is_ **a kitchen knife. And **_you_** are an ignorant dog with no manners. Touch Yukimaru again, or call yourself samurai in my hearing, and I _will _take your head."

Saisashi--of all things--laughed, a quick sharp bark.

"Look at him, Yuki." A note that was almost triumphant. "Take a good look at this beast. Think what he might do. You'd really rather have him for your elder brother than me?"

"_Don't speak to him_." The point drew a drop of blood.

Yuki did not need to be told to look at Jin; he could not have pulled his eyes away. He was fierce and pitiless as a hunting animal, pale skin pulled tight over sharp bones, grey eyes burning with cold fury. He stared down the length of his katana as if he could already feel it slicing into Saisashi's throat… Yuki swallowed.

Mononoke…angry, vengeful spirit…they'd said he wasn't human, and look at him…

Jin wanted to kill him, Yuki could feel it, feel the intensity of that anger on his skin--

"Yukimaru--" Saisashi's voice louder, reckless--"if you look this ghost in the eye and say you want to be his, I'll know you're mad, and I'll be done with both of you."

Yuki took a step forward, trembling from head to foot. And another. He reached out a shaking hand and laid it on the blue-green sleeve.

"Jin--"--his voice was not steady, but it was clear--"I can't ask it of you…but if you asked to be my onii-san, I'd accept."

The beautiful spirit turned its head to regard him, hardly seeming to see him. Yuki swallowed harder, throat dry, and reached out, touched his bare throat, slid up to press his palm to Jin's cheek. Only a whisper. "--I would."

For a moment nothing at all..

..then those eyes as wild as a lightning storm half-closed to his touch, and the blade slowly descended. Yuki began to breathe again.

"Yukimaru, " a ghostly whisper, "little brother--"

"Let's go," he whispered, and he and the _mononoke_ quit the field of battle, Saisashi cackling mirthessly after them.

* * *

He sat with his head in his hands, shivering in the frosty grass behind the stables, speaking in a low, anguished voice. "What have I done? Everything I've learned...somehow…" He could barely breathe. "I've failed everyone, and I don't even know how--Niwa-dono would be ashamed of me--"

"He'll never know." Yuki's eyes never left his face.

**"I'll** know. I should have--"

"_Jin!_" He'd had enough, grabbed his shoulder, forced him to look around. "Will you stop that? Think of what you said to me!"

"What?" Blank, drained stare.

"You agreed--you called me _ototo_. Please don't say you didn't mean it." Suddenly so afraid--Jin was staring at him as if he were speaking some strange tongue--

"…you really meant that?"

"Meant it!" He dug his fingers into the thin sloped shoulders. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you looked? You were splendid. You were _magnificent._ I was hot and cold all over, I would have walked through fire to touch you. Do you understand me?"

Jin's anguished stare slowly bcame a light of genuine wonder.

'You still aren't afraid of me."

"Of _course _I'm afraid of you. Only a blind _idiot_ wouldn't be afraid of you. But that's--that doesn't matter--I wouldn't _have_ anyone who was _tame." _His heart was pounding so hard he could barely speak, how was he going to say it--he had been so afraid that the toad was right, that the samurai age was over, that there would never be a warrior to love him, a soul that loved and hated and believed as passionately as his-- he had to understand--

"--can't you tell how I feel? I want you more than _anything_."

Slowly, unfolding, Jin reached out to him, held out his hands, shaking. Yuki took them in his, then moved in between them, wrapped Jin in his arms, hugged him as close as he could.

"Beautiful, don't, don't be so afraid, please…whatever's wrong, no matter what, you've got me--"

Jin leaned into his arms, laid his head against Yuki's shoulder. The trembling began to ease, and Yuki stroked his head; Jin folded his arms around him and held him tight.

"…Snowflake." It was a breath, barely a whisper.

Very fondly and tenderly: "…_ghost."_

He swore to all the gods in all the shrines of Japan: not till the last moment of his life would he ever let this one go.

* * *

Vocabulary for this chapter:

Edited Dec. 9th to correct forms of personal address. _Arigatou_, Neko-san )

One of the possible translations of Yukimaru's name is "little snow" (or "snow circle"), so Jin guesses he's not the first one to think of calling Yuki "Snowflake" as a pet name. He is, however, mistaken.

The Five Schools: Bizen, Yamashiro, Yamato, Soshu and Mino. The provinces from which issued 80 percent of the magnificent blades from the golden age of Japanese swordmaking, c. 900-1450.

Masatsune: a noted smith of the_ ko-bizen_ (early Bizen) period, operating not far from Yukimaru's home province of Izu. Several generations of this name were swordsmiths, which is why Jin notes that Yuki's heirloom was made by the first one.

Ashigaru: the only class of non-nobles ever allowed to become samurai. In 1588-1591, the shogun Toyotomi Hideyoshi enacted two ordinances absolutely dividing the warrior and farmer classes. The part-time warriors called _ashigaru_, who fought with the bow and lance --later, the matchlock pistol--and were farmers when not at war, were redefined as warriors by these ordinances and thus entered the social class of samurai, even though not born there. True samurai were not impressed.

Ryokai (Two Worlds) Mandala: an esoteric Buddhist image combining the Diamond World and Womb World mandalas. Jin probably acquired it after his introduction to Shingon Buddhism.

"kitchen steel" _(hocho-tetsu_) --a very nasty insult to a cheap sword. Yuki does much the same, though more politely, when he calls it "shinto steel"; "shin-to" means "new sword" [not to be confused with the Shinto religion] and swords thus designated are noted for their emphasis on looks over usefulness. (That's what the deal about the fancy maple-leaf hamon is about, whereas Yuki's blade's hamon is in a classically simple style. )


	6. Chapter 6 : the widening gyre part 1

_**Sleepwalker**, _chapter 6_--the widening gyre, part 1_

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**NOTE: several instances of Jin x Yuki--yes, that's male x male**-- sex in this chapter; be warned.

Usual disclaimer: I do not own the characters of _Samurai Champloo_, which are owned and (c) 2004-5 and into perpetuity by Manglobe, Simoigusa Champloos and Watanabe-sensei: but gods, I don't know what I'd do without them.

Especial and particular gratitude this time to my sister in crime ArielTheTempest, without whom several important parts of this chapter would not be. _Arigato gozaimasu, shimai.  
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Usual anachronism notes at the end; edited July 2009 to prune the worst of the fangirl Japanese.

_(--and roadkill and dakameleon can just kiss my angst-ridden yaoi fangirl ass. )_

* * *

_Ichigatsu to Gogatsu (January to May), 1672._

A long time later, when he could again remember anything that had happened at the Mujuu, Jin knew that 1672 had been the happiest year of his life.

His teaching career could not have gotten off to a better start. The _nanadan_ masters, Sengai and Jisho--the dojo's senior instructors, second in rank only to Mariya Enshirou--had both expressed their warm approval of his new status and promised any support he needed (as well as privately offering grateful thanks for the lessened burden on themselves). Confronting his first class had been slightly awkward, but he had prepared himself carefully: he had spent days meditating not only on the written teachings but on everything Mariya-dono and Niwa-dono had ever told him, and when he stepped out in front of the junior students he felt calm and clear about what they most needed to know.

He had never addressed so many people before, and had to take a very deep breath to ground himself when faced by that rank of attentive eyes, but his voice was even and steady. "Studying the mujuushin-kenjutsu-ryu is actually studying yourself. You will be learning how the blade becomes part of you and expresses your intent in different situations." (So far, so good: they were all listening, and didn't look confused.) "So the first thing I want you to do is stand up and let me observe your balance. Rise, please."

Obediently, they all did. He walked around the group carefully assessing how they stood, some squarely and with chins boldly raised, some humbly with downcast eyes, intent on showing their respect. One had a heel that didn't quite set down flat; a riding accident, he said…

"Jin-san?"

(Raised eyebrow. That was rather rude: he was entitled to "Master" or "Sempai" at the very least. But it wouldn't do to start by disputing such a minor detail.)

He checked his list: that would be Azuma Ichiban. "--Azuma-kun?"

"Master Jisho teaches this class. Is he ill today?"

"No, he's assigned your class to me. I will be your teacher from now on."

"Master Jisho is a _nanadan sensei_."

Well, that explained the rudeness. _And,_ quite plainly in the polite, cool little voice, _you aren't_. --The masters had warned him about this: most of the dojo's students were either serious and dedicated kenjutsu purists, who spoke in hushed tones of Masamune and regarded attending the Mujuu as a form of monastic devotions; or sons of wealthy samurai families, who could afford to have their sons learn a refined and esoteric discipline rather than one more practical, and insisted on their getting the best treatment. Here he apparently had one of the second sort…

_Refuse to be affected by distractions: see them, note them, let them go. _Jin's voice was as calm as the willow pond. "And as such, he knows who is capable of teaching this material. I suggest you respect his judgment." Still examining the stance of the boy with the shortened leg, he saw from the corner of his eye Jisho-dono smiling as he left his observation point by the door. There was a flurry of whispers in the room, and Jin had no further challenges.

What he did have was a rather pleasant surprise: admirers. The young students he'd been placed in charge of (he had two sessions of them, one aged about 9-12 and one 13-15) were newly arrived at the Mujuu, and knew his reputation only at a distance, if at all. Learning first-hand that the gorgon of the dojo legends was rather more civil in person, and in fact more patient with a novice's stumbles than the _nanadan_, they began to like him--respectfully, of course--and made no secret of it. He had their serious attention from beginning to end of each session (and, he began to suspect, more than one romantic crush as well). Moreover, the older students, hearing the juniors' talk, began to take a second look at him themselves, and suggest to each other that maybe that year of outside training really had made a difference. The general climate around him, as a result, became warmer than he could ever remember, and that was rather pleasant as well.

He couldn't help feeling he deserved it, since it came about as a result of hard and diligent work. Determined to be worthy of the school's faith in him, he'd set out to bridge the distance he still felt between himself and others. He learned all his students' names and made certain to neglect none, schooling himself in patience with the slowest and shyest, reminding himself of the boys he had trained with and how long they had taken to grasp their lessons. It was strange to reflect that he had never been like them: even at their age he had been so far ahead that his own memories gave him no clue to their minds. He still wasn't, could not be, like anyone else--he felt that even more clearly now that he was home--but he could at least behave as if they all stood on common ground, and practice what he'd learned. That too was work, but the best kind.

And the new position wasn't the only bright spot in Jin's life. The confrontation with Saisashi had broken some barrier for both Yukimaru and himself; the sight of him held no more unease for either of them, and sensing his lost power he drifted away from their orbit. They could walk the dojo grounds together from end to end without stepping on his shadow even once, and that was a great relief, because they walked together every day now…

Which of course was the best thing of all.

* * *

As he'd expected, Yuki became one of his students, and would be so for the next half-year, until he turned 16. This--they both understood--must make them a bit more discreet in their meetings: courtship between older and younger students was commonplace, but between master and pupil it might appear as favoritism or worse. So, openly, all they ever did together was walk back to Jin's quarters together after class, talking of ordinary things, and politely and pointedly bowing each other farewell at the doorstep. It would only be later that Yuki would vanish from the juniors' rooms (his classmates, no doubt, graciously pretending not to notice) and take the back way to the main building where the masters lived. As it happened, one of the few benefits the Mujuu could offer its instructors was private living quarters, small but comfortable, and Yuki had made the acquaintance of Jin's new space the same night he'd moved into it. It was only a little larger than his old one, but it was his alone, and these cold evenings the best part of his day was lighting the lamp and waiting for Yuki's tap on the screen.

They didn't become lovers at once. There was no reason to hurry, and neither wanted to; it seemed much more important to know each other, share this unspoken feeling that this was no mere season's romance. So they sat and talked together, and combed each other's hair, or lit the oil warmer and rubbed the day's knots out of tired arms and shoulders. But Yuki did teach him to kiss--a rather exotic skill he was impishly proud of; he'd been taught it, he confided, by a roguish and well-traveled cousin--and those hours were so intimate and sweet that his remembered nights with Niwa-dono seemed formal by comparison. Jin would listen to Yuki breathe in his sleep, in the pre-dawn quiet before he must go, and think what a paradox he was: a shameless flirt but an innocent, both longing and shy. It was strange to realize that he, Jin, was now the older partner, an experienced onii-san expected to take the lead, when he had been an untouched innocent himself so little time ago. But he'd been treated with love and dignity as well as desire, opened to this world in a way whose memory still made him shiver with pleasure, and he would not give Yuki anything less. They would be; they promised each other they would be. But in good time.

It was on one of these evenings together that a page came to Jin's door, with the message that he was requested to meet with the Master. It came as a surprise: he had talked to Mariya-dono just that morning and he'd made no mention of anything they needed to discuss. Yuki glanced up, stopping his tortoise-shell biwa pick in mid-stroke. (Modest about his skill on the instrument, he was delighted that Jin genuinely enjoyed hearing him play.)

"Should I go?"

Jin frowned slightly. The only shadow on his mind for weeks now had been the Master's coolness to him since the test; he had examined and re-examined every moment of the test without a clue… "Maybe so. I don't know how long this might take. I'm sorry; I have no idea what it's about."

Yuki felt a twinge of disappointment at losing such a pleasant evening. Jin looked too distracted and concerned to even suggest a kiss goodnight. He brushed the disappointment aside before it could be noticed: of course, Jin's responsibility to the Master came first. "It must be important, or he wouldn't send for you like this." He laid the _bachi _back in the biwa's case. "I'll see you tomorrow, big brother."

"Good night, little brother." He managed, at least, his usual shade of a smile.

* * *

Mariya-dono was sitting at the desk of his study when Jin entered, and gestured him to sit without preamble.

"In looking through papers this evening, I was reminded of a piece of business I've been intending to discuss with you. This seems a good time to do so."

(_It does?_) Jin inclined his head politely. "Yes_, shishou_."

He drew a folded document, sealed with red cord and sealing wax, out of the paperwork and set it on the desk before Jin. "This is the deed to your father's property in Kai. It was left to me as your guardian, but it rightfully belongs to you. As you're now of age, you must decide what's to be done with it." He cleared his throat; his voice was oddly controlled, more formal than was usual between them. His reading-glasses caught the lamplight, making his eyes for a moment unseeable.

"Considering its history, no one would wonder if you didn't wish to live there--"

(_Live_ there? Where--he had to hold himself very still to avoid a shudder--where his family had been butchered, and he left a dazed and mute orphan all these years past? Live _there_? He doubted he could even step through the door.)

"--but it's a valuable piece of land. It would bring a good deal of money, if you chose to sell it." He was not looking at Jin. "Enough for you to live anywhere you please."

Very carefully, trying to read Mariya-dono's tone. "But I live here, Master."

Mariya gestured wearily at his paper-laden desk. "Both you and I, but I wonder how long." Deep sigh. "You're a skilled and talented young man, Jin. Now that you're certified to teach, you'd be welcome at any school you chose. No one would blame you if you sought a position with more advantage, at a dojo, perhaps, more successful than this one…"

The too-controlled voice had an edge of dark bitterness, and Jin knew this was no longer --had it ever been--about his father's property in Kai. The Master was offering him a chance to leave, and that might be generosity or despair, but why would he think Jin _wanted _to leave, or--surely it wasn't the _Master_ who--

He made up his mind at once. "Then I will sign the property over to you, _shishou, _to be sold for the good of the dojo."

For the first time, as far as Jin knew, Mariya Enshirou was taken completely by surprise. He stopped in the middle of his next word, staring at Jin, speechless.

"You're quite certain?"

"Absolutely." Jin met his eyes without hesitation. "I have no desire to leave the Mujuu."

"You understand that this is your only inheritance. And your teaching salary would barely support you outside the dojo." He paused, his keen eyes searching Jin's face for any shade of doubt. "If you do this, you give your whole life to Mujuushin kenjutsu."

"If you have a brush, I'll sign it now."

"...so be it." Mariya lowered his eyes; there was a long silence. "Thank you, Jin. I should have expected no less of you."

Inclined his head "--Master." But they hadn't settled the real matter at hand. He took the moment's advantage, there would be no better time to get an answer than now, but…

"_Shishou..._" he hardly knew how to ask it…"if something is wrong, or I've done anything to displease you…"

Another long silence. "I have known Niwa Juunosuke for twenty years. He is one of my closest colleagues and friends, yet he could not summon the courage to tell me that he'd fallen in love with you. When I saw him taking his leave of you, I could not help but wonder if there was something you, too, hadn't told me..." He shook his head. "Forgive me. I'm ashamed to have suspected such things of you. But a man in difficulties can see betrayal in the smallest shadow."

He was too taken aback to say more than "Of course." It was the only thing he hadn't considered, the only moment of the testing day he hadn't weighed for its possible effect on Mariya-dono, because it was the only thing he would never have imagined the man had seen. He could only guess what the Master had thought…

He suddenly felt something he had never, ever expected to feel for his formidable master: compassion, almost pity_. He thought he was losing us both; he feared his adopted son and his old friend had both turned against him, robbing him of something he couldn't replace_. Was the dojo in such trouble as that? He felt the strangest urge to reassure him, to set his mind at ease, as if he had become the older and wiser man of the two.

He deepened his breathing: his voice came out even and calm. "I had a good year at Gojuu Hall, yes. And I treasure my friendship with Niwa-dono and his family, who were so kind to me. But Niwa Juunosuke is not my father, and Gojuu Hall is not my home. Those things are here. They always will be."

"He didn't ask you, then…to return with him, or teach there."

"No_, shishou_. And if he had I would not have accepted. My place is here."

Mariya nodded, eyes closed. Very quietly, "I am most grateful, my son."

"At your service, father."

After a moment, his master indicated the sealed document. "You should read that."

Jin broke the wax seal with his thumbnail and opened the folded sheets. They described, as expected, the house, grounds and outbuildings in detail, together with whatever property no other clan members or aligned families had seen fit to make off with in the time the house had stood unoccupied, with a page of beautifully executed ink drawings for good measure. He skimmed through it, sure that anything he might have wanted had been looted by now, beyond recall or reclamation. It hardly mattered. This branch of House Takeda ended with him; he already doubted he'd ever want to expose a wife and children to the unpredictable hatred of the Shogunate.

--no, wait. "Master? There was one thing at the house--a keepsake of my father's..."

He knew what Jin meant. "I sent someone to look not long after you arrived here. It was already missing even then."

Even that was gone. His instinct was true; the house held no trace of his childhood, nothing of value to him any more. He slid the brush and ink closer to his side of the desk, looked for the line marked for signature.

"Make sure to sign your full name," added Mariya, and he took a second to remember: of course.

Just before he'd gone to Gojuu Hall, Mariya had called him in and told him there was a last thing to do: he was to be given his adult name. He had been only "Jin" to his mother and father from birth, the short, good-luck name of childhood that's replaced in one's teens by the formal name one will carry throughout life. His father should have been the one to name him, and he should in turn have consulted with other clan heads or even the Shogun for the right combination of syllables to mark him as who he was, bring him both fortune and prestige. Now no one could do that but Mariya-san, who had decided to see to it before sending him off, as a gesture of confidence in him. Jin had felt slightly uncomfortable, but one wasn't allowed to dispute the name chosen for one… he picked up the brush: _Takeda Izumiyori. _Slight smile: _izumi-yori,_ "fountain of requests". _Wishing well._ It spoke so plainly of the Master's hopes for him…

The Master adjusted his glasses and examined the document carefully. It wasn't until he had co-signed, folded and ensleeved the paperwork that Jin said anything more, feeling both concerned and entitled to know: the Mujuu's fate and his had now, after all, become one and the same. "Is the Mujuu in such difficulty, Master?"

Sigh. "It is. We lose students and don't replace them. All schools are declining, but ours has always appealed to a more select class than most, and more and more they regard learning the sword at all as a luxury. But we still require food, and clothing, and repairs to the roof, as much as we ever have, however we're to pay for it… " Annoyed shake of the head. "The junior students already complain about the laundry and the kitchen work; I can imagine them if we assign them gardening or stable chores. And if enough of their fathers hear about it, we'll lose them as well. Which we can't afford." He rubbed the tight spot between his eyes. "I hope you never regret the thing you've just done, though you have my deepest gratitude for it."

"I'm sure I won't. Ever."

A tired smile lit the swordmaster's stern features; he stood. "I don't mean to burden you with these troubles. Enough talk for one night." He rested his hands on the tall boy's shoulders as he stood. "Good night, dear son. You are the best fortune the Mujushin kenjutsu has ever had."

Jin closed his eyes, absorbed the touch in quiet contentment. "Good night, father."

Mariya picked up another document from the desk as the door slid shut, looked after him thoughtfully. A property deed like the first, sealed with wax, and red silk tassels. _Indeed, you've given your life to the Mujuu…the least I can do is give it to you in turn…_

_

* * *

_"But the interesting thing is that he almost embraced me. He hasn't touched me that way in ten years." He and Yuki were walking back from the next day's classes. "I can't help but wonder if he's trying to understand what Niwa-dono gave me that he didn't…"

Yuki smothered a half-gasp-laugh. "What! Do you think he'll offer to sleep with you?"

"No, I wouldn't think _that_. But…"--slightly wistful--"it would be nice if we were a little more close. He was very kind to me when I was small." They had reached Yuki's door; Yuki on impulse caught his sleeve.

"You've never met any of my friends. Come in."

Jin hadn't been in the junior students' quarters since he was one himself, and observed with mixed feelings the crowded yet cozy and busy warmth of the place. It had never seemed so friendly when he lived here…

Yuki steered him down the row to his space and glanced around with satisfaction.

"Ah, they're all here_. --_Hey, everyone."

"Yuki-chan! Have a seat. Tadayo's family sent him--oh!"

They were all staring at Jin, who didn't know what to do. Yuki intervened. "I wanted him to meet you, so don't be rude. Jin-san, this is Tadayo and Hiroshi, and Akinori." Aki was the newest member of the pack, having met Yuki soon after transferring from another dojo, and he was the one giving Jin the most awestruck stare. "Aki'll probably be transferring into your class soon-- Jisho-dono says his last dojo training gave him two left feet." Playful nudge.

"I'm honored to meet you, Takeda-dono," stammered Akinori, bowing, and all followed suit. Jin accepted, bowing back, a little uncomfortable—this seemed a bit too much deference outside of the dojo floor. But Yuki dropped onto his futon and motioned Jin to sit as well.

"Let's not be so formal, all right? What were you starting to tell me?"

Hiroshi was about to repeat what he'd been saying when he noticed Jin's eye had been caught by the ukiyo-e poster that occupied the place of honor above Yuki's futon. He grinned. "Did Yuki not tell you about his other hero, Jin-dono?"

"..Please. Jin-san is fine."

"As you like." (This was the closest Hiroshi had ever been to the legendary Dojo Ghost, and no question, he was an odd one; he was sitting uneasily and contained, all angles, as though he'd never hung around with a pack of kids in his life. Which, come to think, he likely hadn't.) "Anyway—"

_"Anyway,_ that is the legendary Genjo, Yuki's lifelong, desperate crush—"

"_Tadayo!_**_" _**Yuki reddened and looked for something to throw at him

Hiroshi leaned his head closer to Jin's and explained calmly –and the ghost smelled smoky and sweet like a cool night in a pine forest—"that's Genjo; he's a master of the _heike-biwa_. Major hero of Yuki's. He's seen him perform a dozen times, knows all about him. I think, next to his grandfather's sword, that autograph is his greatest treasure." --Jin took a closer look at the poster, which depicted a handsome young man in elegant court dress, strolling in a garden and playing the biwa. Sure enough, it was signed in a lower corner, in a swoosh of gilt ink: "To Yukimaru, with best wishes, Genjo." (Jin also noted with amusement that the pretty silver-embroidered green pattern of Yuki's biwa shoulder-strap was in fact a copy of the heike master's.)

Yuki, having found no missile, looked up and met Jin's gaze half-defiantly. "All right, now you know. Go ahead and say it's silly."

"I can't see anything wrong in admiring a performer." (He'd barely even heard of such things, truth be told.) "Especially since you play, yourself. I've studied other fighters that I thought especially skilled."

"Don't bet you hung their picture on your wall, though," undertoned Tadayo, grinning, and Yuki was about to resume his search when a voice was raised at the end of the dormitory, firmly and indignantly.

"--because Takeda-dono has been kinder to me than anyone, and never calls me a cripple who's wasting the dojo's time, like _some _people. I won't have you disrespect him!"

"Probably Terasaki and Azuma," Jin sighed, "he doesn't think I warrant any courtesy."

There was a sudden loud crack of bokken, and the startled group scrambled to its feet at once--the quarrel had become more than a mere argument. As Jin had guessed, it was Terasaki Jiro, the boy with the shortened leg, squared off with Azuma Ichiban. They circled, cracked blades again.

Hiroshi tossed a worried glance at Jin. "Fighting's not allowed in the rooms, is it?--"

But Jin was examining the duel with a calm, keen eye.

"Akinori-kun--" the thoughtful voice carried further than you'd expect--"what would you say is the worst mistake Azuma-kun is making?"

"The worst mistake? Fighting in anger." The tall boy's slightly wry tone suggested he'd been called on this point himself; Jin noted it with a raised eyebrow.

"Good, but no. Terasaki-kun is making _that_ mistake as well. --Yukimaru-kun?"

"Underestimating his opponent," Yuki replied without hesitation. "Terasaki's defense work is exceptional, his hands are quick, and his reach is longer than Azuma's. That balances out his size and uneven stance. "

"_Very_ good, Yukimaru-kun." By now the fighters were aware they were being made examples of--as was everyone else; the whole dorm was on its feet craning for a better look--and had ceased, stood panting and glaring at each other as Jin strode down the aisle toward them.

"You _do _underestimate Terasaki-kun. His next strike would have easily passed your defense, and we'd be bandaging your skull tonight. Learn from this. --And you--" he turned to his defender--"know better than to argue with weapons. Give me those and withdraw."

They silently handed him the bokken and turned to go; Jin caught Jiro, added quietly, "Thank you, Terasaki-kun, but I can defend my own honor. You needn't fight for me."

The boy's expression said he would fight for Jin all the way to the gates of hell, but he stepped back with a deep bow. "Yes, Takeda-_dono."_

_

* * *

_The snow had begin to fall before Jin left the junior students' quarters, and was almost ankle-deep by the time Yuki made his way to Jin's room later that night. Jin had lit a new hour-candle and set it as close to the futon as was safe, and the room was cozy and sweet with the honey smell of beeswax. Yuki was curled up on Jin's shoulder, and Jin was agreeing with him.

"It's true, people are much different toward me now. I think it's because…for a long time, really, I hardly spoke to anyone, and they had no idea what I was like. It's only since I've been back from Gojuu Hall and began teaching that I've dealt with people every day. I think they're surprised that I somehow turned into a human while I was gone."

Yuki chuckled. "The first night I talked to you, I heard a stack of ghost stories about you from my roommates, practically a whole book's worth. They even told me your great-great-something-grandmother was a kitsune."

"That one's true."

Yuki sat up and stared at him wide-eyed. "You don't mean it!"

"No, it really is. At least, the family history says it is." Jin reached up and drew him back down. "She was my great-great-grandmother. Suwa Yorishige's daughter, Lady Koi."

"Tell me!" Yuki snuggled back into place quickly, big eyes alight. Jin tilted his head, looked at him with a smile.

"This really has you hooked. You're quite charming this way."

"I love stories. When you learn the biwa you learn so many old tales. I always loved the ghosts of the Heike…" delicious shiver. "Tell it to me."

Jin tucked an arm around him. "Takeda Shingen defeated Suwa-san in battle and drove him to suicide. His daughter was so beautiful that Shingen married her, though she was only 14 and her mother was Shingen's sister. She went to the family shrine, it's said, and begged the White Fox to help her avenge her father, and the spirit heard, and gave her power. Shingen was so fascinated by her that he never refused her anything… the whole household thought she'd bewitched him." Jin traced a finger down Yuki's forehead and nose, slowly across his lips. "That might not be so, but Katsuyori, his son from her, did become his favorite and his heir. He even named him after her rather than after himself-- 'Yori' was an old Suwa family name. And Takeda Katsuyori was my great-grandfather."

"..ooh." Yuki nibbled the finger. "Maybe that's why you like to bite me…"

"At least I try not to mark you. And I don't think that has to do with my fox blood. If I really have any."

"Oh, don't deny it." Yuki folded both arms around him. "I had a cousin who used to enjoy scaring me with ghost stories, and there was a lot about kitsunes and vengeful women, and I loved that tingling feeling up my spine. Just the way I love the _Heike Monogatari,_ and the Taira spirits rising from the sea. And now I find out--" he nosed Jin's neck, kissed the soft spot under his ear--"you're part of that whole crazy, beautiful world. See, I keep _telling_ you you're wonderful."

Jin drew them together, and they kissed gently and seriously. Yuki sighed, eyes closed. "Don't they say.." dreamily, drawing his fingers slowly through Jin's long sleek hair--"that kitsune are dangerous lovers, because once you've been with one, no one else will ever please you?.."

"Perhaps.." the sea-grey eyes were half-closed. "And you still aren't afraid to kiss me?"

"It doesn't matter. I already know I don't want anyone but you."

Jin kissed his forehead, touched his nose in light reproof. "Yuki, you're just 15, and you're beautiful. It's too soon to say I'll be your one and only love."

(Yet even as he said this sensible thing he felt himself bristle just a bit: of _course_, he was Yuki's true love. He had won him in fair combat with a rival, and by Yuki's own choice. Maybe, sometime years from now, he might love another…but Jin didn't care to think about that…)

And Yuki was looking into his face, his black hair loose, the dark eyes wide and serious. "You don't believe the story?"

He was so completely adorable that all such thoughts vanished. Jin gathered him in close and held him tight. "Yes, I believe it. I promise. Once you and I become lovers we will never want anyone else, ever, till the end of time."

Yuki returned the embrace, drew back far enough to see his face, eyes now sparkling. "Then why should we wait? Surely--" he glanced toward the door, the silent shadows of snowflakes falling--"you aren't sending me out in the snow tonight?"

And something changed quietly in the room between them, in their eyes, and Jin thought, why _should _we…?

"All right. Let me say this, so you'll know." He raised himself up over Yuki, arms braced on either side of him. "Kitsune are very possessive. They give everything, but they want everything, and they mate for life." He didn't know where this came from as it poured from him; it was as if he'd known it always. "A kitsune who loves you will protect you, and defend you, and give you everything he can find in his heart to give anyone. Because it's only human touch that reminds them they aren't beasts." He leaned close enough to Yuki to feel the boy's warm breath, see the depths of his eyes. "But betray him, lie to him, break faith with him in any way, and he will forget. He'll forget. And terrible things happen then."

"I never will," Yuki whispered, eyes not wavering from his.

"Ten thousand died at Nagashino to give a fox girl her revenge. A beast's revenge. You understand?" He shivered; it was as if a shadow, a wind from the other world passed through the room. The candle flickered. "It was her broken heart that caused it…"

"You scare me. I love you. I always _will _love you." Yuki reached up, wound his arms around Jin's neck. "My beautiful ghost."

Jin closed his eyes. He'd known he could be trusted. He was strong enough. He released a long breath, sank into the warm, close embrace.

"…my Snowflake."

* * *

And this too he would remember: that the first night they had gone beyond a kiss, it was snowing, and the snow seemed to hush all sound. It was their ally, helping to keep their secret, as they stroked and caressed each other and could not, though they tried, remain silent.

"Ohhh--_oh_ Jin--" Yuki pressed into him, into the strong fingers that closed around him, moved on him with sure experience. The sensation was exquisite and maddening---he wanted more of it, much more--

"Shhh."

'I can't, I--" It was nothing like touching yourself: he was in Jin's hands, moving, responding, his senses flooded with the warmth of his presence, the smell of honey and his skin and his own desire. He stopped thinking, lost everything but breath and sensation, gasped as Jin drew them closer--

"--I'm allowed to touch you too?" There were, he somehow remembered, rules for this--

Slow deep breath. _"-- please." _

The last time he had done this he had felt like weeping, because they had been parting, he and Niwa-dono, and he had ached to think of losing him, of leaving his warm house and his voice and this deep, breathtaking pleasure--but this one was his own, his to keep, and he felt nothing but joy. He trembled as the boy's warm fingers slid down his stomach--so different, no less beautiful--

--scent of honey and salt and musk, hot, wet skin--

--and Yuki clutched him close with a high, sharp cry, shuddered, flowed through his fingers, his grip on Jin tightening at just the right instant. He groaned, let himself groan, the deep sound shaking through him, and gave, gave gladly, his whole heart open now_. My Yuki. Mine._

And then just their breathing in the quiet of the snow.

* * *

("I'd let you inside me...if you want to…" he stroked Jin slowly and tenderly, admiring. Bright-eyed and glowing, he looked not at all finished for the night. "I'm not afraid."

"No--" Jin stretched lazily under the warm caress--"that's too important to do lightly. We should save it until we can take our time." Sigh. "And until the _nanadan_ aren't asleep on both sides of us…"

Yuki had to giggle. "I hope they enjoyed hearing it."

_"Yuki.")_

_

* * *

_Jin's good luck held; a buyer was soon found for the Kai property, and while the price was not extravagant, it was enough to pay the Mujuu's standing debts and see them through the worst of the winter, even to patch the leaking roofs. Jin accompanied Mariya-dono into Edo for the day --Kisarazu, the Mujuu's nearest town, was directly across the bay from the great city, so it was no more than a morning's walk and a ferry ride--to settle the completion of the sale and sign the final papers. And while there, he saw something..

He wouldn't even have noticed it a week ago, but now it caught his eye at once. The _kawara-ban _board that greeted all arrivals coming by the Tokaido Road, covered with notices, advertisements and the latest news, bore in its center a large poster, decorated --the artwork was quite lovely--with the logo of a biwa in a wreath of plum and cherry blossoms.

GENJO

(the poster read),

SUMMER FESTIVAL TOUR 1672

His only performances this year!

An experience you'll never forget!

Certain to sell out--buy tickets now!

--and beneath it several glowing reviews and a list of venues. Yes--Jin scanned the list--he would be performing here in Edo, two nights, in fact…

...in the same week as Yuki's birthday.

It was clearly fate that he was here to see this now. He looked over the list of ticket prices and winced: they were steep for a junior instructor's salary. Well, Yuki had seen the artist perform before, he might not mind if they hadn't the best seats. Especially since they wouldn't want to travel right back to the Mujuu after the concert--they would be walking all night, and the ferry might not be running so late--and would require overnight lodgings in Edo. Jin sighed at his limited budget. At least they'd only need one room.

….now, that would be cozy, a room all to themselves, with no one to care if they weren't so quiet…the first privacy they'd ever had…

And then he knew what the rest of Yuki's birthday present ought to be.

He glanced at Mariya-dono, who was still negotiating the price of something with a stall owner, and took note of the nearest dealer of tickets, smiling to himself. He was forming a plan.

* * *

Winter passed away; the students scattered for the springbreak, and there were fewer of them at the beginning of the spring term. Again Mariya-dono found himself with a sheaf of polite but dismissive letters from families removing their sons from tuition, and his good humor of the winter, lightened by the support of the property sale, began to darken again. Jin, Sengai and Jisho learned to tread very lightly, to offer more than the usual courtesy and deference, and even then to look out for his moods.

It was uncomfortable to realize that his star seemed to be rising as surely as the Master's was faltering. He did not want, had never wanted, to gain anything at his shishou's expense, but there was no denying that he was nearly as popular an instructor as Mariya-dono himself; every week someone requested to be moved from Sengai and Jisho's classes into Jin's, and as the Master grew more short-tempered and difficult, Jin worried that they would leave his classes as well. He wanted no part of injuring Mariya-dono's pride, but he could surely not refuse to accept new students; and he couldn't deny, either, his own pride and satisfaction at his developing skill, the pleasure of watching young swordsmen learn and gain confidence in his care.

There was a dark voice in him that said he had suffered enough, that he should not always have to deprive himself for others, even for his Master. He silenced the voice, telling himself firmly that a samurai is a servant, and that it was disloyal even to think so of Mariya-dono, to whom he owed his whole life; but it remained there, a soft, stubborn growl, an animal's hunger deep in his heart. Is it so wrong, to want what one deserves? Is it wrong to even think of deserving? …

He spent many hours meditating on these thoughts, striving for balance and calm, and made sure never to set out for class before a session of deep breathing, the _ajikan_ rhythm--to see the essence with the heart-- that Niwa-dono had taught him. Grounded and centered, knowing he would not be disturbed whatever occurred, he could work without worry or sense of conflict and concentrate himself in the purity of the Mujuu's discipline. He would walk slowly and thoughtfully to the dojo, observing the weather and the quality of the day, and be ready to face anything by the time he arrived.

Yuki could always tell when the morning's meditation had gone well, because Jin's entry to the dojo brought a tangible breath of calm, a spiritual lightness that relaxed everyone. As he stepped out before the class, Yuki could not help thinking of the haunted, half-healed Jin who had crept so quietly back to the Mujuu last winter. It is remarkable, what a few months of responsibility and simple kindness will do…

(.._that, and a good many nights in a warm futon_, he grinned wickedly to himself; _I dare say I deserve at least a little of the credit for bringing him out of his shell_…)

And then was startled alert: Jin was bowing deeply to the door. "_Shishou_, we're honored."

Mariya-dono was observing today's class? Yuki knew he hadn't told Jin--but then, the surprise was probably the point--he straightened up, prayed everyone would look alert and behave as they began. They adored Jin (well, all except Azuma-kun, and he was much outnumbered these days); surely they'd look out for him, even if the Master's gimlet stare made them all nervous as cats---

Jin was pacing the row of students, observing. "Slow down, Akinori-kun, you're losing the whole second half of the movement. You too, Tadayo-kun, yes, that's better. --Pay attention, Yukimaru-kun. (--with a lightning-quick glance to him that added _ah, gods, keep us out of trouble here.)--_-Terasaki-kun, let me watch you a moment--"

_Oh, Merciful One._ Suddenly Yuki's whole spine went cold. _Terasaki._ He always took the longest, and Jin never stinted on time with him; the Master had never seen him work before--

He bit his lip. He'd talked to Jiro, and knew he'd been coldly dismissed by a dozen other teachers: told that he would never be a swordsman, despite his passionate dedication to kenjutsu, because of his injured leg. Jin was the first one to not only undertake his training but encourage and praise his efforts, and as a result his devotion to Jin knew no bounds. He'd cut his own throat if he caused Jin any trouble with the Master--

And he'd already drawn a sharp stare.

"I'm sorry, Takeda-dono--"

"It's all right." Jin's voice was calm, reassuring. "Try coming off the other foot. Shift your weight, there, then push off-- that was better. Try it again."

Yuki concentrated on the movement and tried to clear his mind of everything else--raise, quick step ahead, step back, lower, raise--but he couldn't keep the corner of an eye off Terasaki as the Master walked down the row.

"That was fine. Once more--"

"Who are you?" thundered Mariya-dono, stepping between Jin and Terasaki to glare directly at the boy.

"T-Terasaki Jiro, Master--"

"Terasaki Jiro, you've been a student here for two terms now, and that's all the progress you've made?"

Poor Jiro was speechless. The class continued drilling the move, but Yuki knew every one had an eye and an ear on the end of the row.

"No, don't bother to make an excuse--I read your father's letter." He walked around Jiro as if coldly assessing a lame horse offered for sale. "Look what we're forced to settle for. The Mujuushin Kenjutsu-ryu---our fine and subtle discipline---being taught to such crippled children as this." Jiro flinched as if physically struck. "Our Master, O-sensei Sekiun, offered it to his best students--men trained in the shinkage-ryu--and barely a handful of _those_ truly understood it. We should have gifted students in this dojo, boys already too skilled for a lesser school. Instead---" he rounded on Jiro as if to spit at him, pulled the bokken out of his hand, threw it to the floor. "--we take whatever we can get and are grateful for it. We sell our art for nothing. To _you_."

He took a sudden step forward: Jiro cowered back, lost his balance, fell in a huddle to the floor. Mariya stood over him glowering terribly--

_"Shishou."_

Jin's voice was not raised, but it carried such force that every student stopped moving. There was total silence, broken only by the terrified whimpering of Terasaki Jiro.

Mariya stared at Jin, who bowed so deeply his hair nearly brushed the polished floor.

"Terasaki-kun is my student; the fault is therefore mine as well. I will endeavor to improve my instruction."

The words were courteous and the tone exactly level, but there was something in it that made everyone in the room catch his breath.

The Master stepped back, looked down at Terasaki, then at Jin, as if only now aware of their presence.

With obvious effort, he collected himself. "See that you do so." And strode for the door without glancing back.

There was a moment of stunned silence before anyone moved, and then it was Jin helping Jiro off the floor. "Terasaki-kun," very quietly, "you're excused. First and third breathing meditations--and wash your face. Come back after dinner and I'll work on that with you."

Terasaki looked as if he wanted to throw himself into Jin's arms and sob, but he drew himself up with heroic self-control, drew a long, shaky breath, and bowed. "Yes, master. I--thank you." He managed not to break into a run until the door closed behind him; they heard the fast scuff of his sandals as he fled the premises.

Jin straightened and looked around the room. Deep breath. "All right. Second kata, please. That will do for today."

* * *

The story streaked around the dojo, and by the evening meal it was the general consensus that Jin was a hero on par with Yoshitsune. Less generally admitted, though whispered by more than a few, was the sense of something uneasily wrong with Mariya Enshirou. Demanding, a perfectionist, he'd always been that way, but this…

Jin did not want to think about it. The Master had bullied a student--all but attacked him--and Jin had been forced to call him on it in front of everyone; he could hardly imagine an outcome further from what he'd wanted. He carried out Terasaki's remedial session as promised, accepted the boy's nearly tearful thanks once again, and holed up in his quarters with Yuki.

"_Amitabha_, this is bad…"

"You had to do that. If it makes the Master doubt your loyalty, he'd do better to think about what kind of impression he makes himself." Yuki was rubbing his back with warm oil, kimono and juban gathered down to his waist and his long crow-black hair trussed up with sticks trimmed in crystal and white coral beads--borrowed from Yuki, since Jin of course owned nothing of the sort. He looked so ethereally beautiful that Yuki had to remind himself this was a serious massage at least every five minutes.

_Hojo Yukimaru, put a leash on it for once_, he scolded himself_. Remember what this is about. The Master in such a rage, and poor Jiro on the floor crying…I've never heard of such a scene in a high-class dojo…_

Jin's head was lowered, his breathing heavy and troubled. "I don't want us to be rivals, but I see no way out of it. Niwa-dono told me that it was admirable to serve but not to serve blindly.. I would do anything for the Mujuu, but I can't ignore this. I _can't."_

"Of course you can't… What about the nanadan? Have you talked to them?"

"Not yet..."

Yuki gently kissed the back of his neck, pitying him: his distress was so deep and painful. _He must hate to be in conflict with Mariya-dono, even think of fighting him: as badly as he's behaving he's still all the family Jin has…_"Nii-san, masters and disciples often come to swordspoint. So do fathers and sons. There may not be another way."

He pressed his thumbs into the tight cords of the long graceful neck, rubbed steadily down to the knot between his shoulderblades, began to work in slow steady circles. Jin sighed gratefully.

"…This would be much harder if I were alone…"

Yuki was touched. "I'm glad I can help." Continued in silence for awhile, breathing the warm, soothing smell of the oil and the red sandalwood candles. By slow degrees Jin's back began to relax.

"Have you ever quarreled with your father?"

Yuki snorted. "_My_ father? Ha. He doesn't take me seriously enough for that. If he argued with anyone it would be big brother Daigoro, and Dai would never contradict Father. No--" more oil--"I'm just the lastborn, Mama-san's baby. The Mujuu is the first place I've ever had any dignity at all."

"Even if your friends call you 'Yuki-chan' ?"

Smile. "Even with that, they'll still spar with me, and they don't ask what I'm doing here. They give me that much credit at least, that I _can _fight." Thought again of poor Jiro, of the way the Master had scorned him…how must that feel…

"Do you know anything about what's worrying the Master so much? --I mean, anything you can tell me?" he amended hastily; of course, some of their talks must be private.

Jin took a long time to reply, his voice slow and exhausted. "We've lost so many students...you heard him say that; the school needs money so badly that we have to accept whoever asks. Terasaki's first application was rejected, but Mariya-dono has been going through the old letters, inviting boys we refused before, and I know that hurts his pride. _All_ of this hurts his pride: the dojo is his whole life." (Yuki did not need to know about the strange threat Gojuu Hall had received, and he knew enough about the Master's almost-jealousy of Niwa-dono…)

"Of course I don't question Mariya-dono, but...that doesn't seem like enough reason…"

"Please, let's not talk about it anymore." Jin buried his face in his hands.

Yuki decided to forget the leash.

"Maybe you'd let me distract you, then?.."

* * *

He'd never been in such control of anyone: Jin was too drained to insist on rules of status, and Yuki found his passive stillness intensely exciting. Actually dared to stretch out on him, kissing his way down from the sharp collarbones, slowly coaxing him back to the surface while he worked on the knots of Jin's fundoshi with one hand. Couldn't help pressing into him a little: oh, he felt good. And he knew it was working when Jin helped with the knots.

Yuki summoned up all he'd heard from his adventurous cousins (who had scandalized the family in the best brothels of Edo, and Mama-san had no idea he knew it), went on kissing as far down as he could slide, delighted with Jin's gasp and shudder. Kissed him very thoughtfully in a few places that were unthinkably daring, added a slow lick, and reached for the bowl of warm massage oil. For someone so quiet and contained he was wonderfully easy to arouse. The candle burned low, leaving them almost all in shadow, warm fragrant darkness, light catching and gleaming on oil and wet skin. Yuki was almost purring as he stretched out beside him, thrilled with his own daring, unable to stop thinking about that salty, smoky taste-

--was still thinking as he ran his oiled fingers up the hard, elegant curve, folded and slid, thinking of the other things his cousins had told him the brothel girls did, was it possible Jin would let him--Jin would--

Jin was gasping for breath, head and shoulders pressed back hard into the futon, pushing his hips into Yuki's grip, a wild spark in the no-longer-still dark eyes--

And someone pounded on the doorframe.

"If you leave now," Yuki grated, working, "I'll never speak to you again, ever."

And there was nothing passive in Jin's snap at the door. _"Wait."_

No, Jin thought--this was _his_--messenger, Master, Shogun himself, could not take it from him--

As fire surged up his spine something opened in him, a fierce, primal anger--deep in his heart he wanted to fight the man, welcomed the challenge, knew that he, Jin, would prove stronger. He had stared Mariya down, dared him to torment the boy any longer, and had won, and had _liked_ it. His loyalty and love were strong, but so was this--this sure knowledge that the coming day was his, that the old warrior, changing, failing, no longer deserved the Mujuu--

Yuki leaned into him hard, panting, wanting him, and it took no more to release him. _Mine, mine---_He snarled deep in his throat, pulled them together, nails, teeth dug into Yuki's shoulders, clung to him while they both shuddered and stilled.

The pounding had continued, and Jin finally disentangled from Yuki, pulled a hand through his hair and found his juban. He found his voice. "I hope that doesn't hurt, Snowflake."

"Just a little. --Crazy fox." He touched the bite, his tone almost admiring.

* * *

At the door were the nanadan masters, Sengai and Jisho, who looked more than a little abashed; doubtless the sounds from inside had told them what they were interrupting. Jin could not help noticing that they looked very much as rumpled as he did--both of them--and in fact even smelled rather the same. He'd never wondered before, but now it crossed his mind that they might be spending a lot more nights in just one room than in two…

"Very sorry, Jin-san, but the Master has summoned us all urgently."

Jin braced himself. "Is it about our ..dispute this afternoon?"

"What? Oh, no." Sengai straightened his hastily knotted obi. "No, it's serious. There's been a theft."

* * *

As they walked along the stone path the nanadan filled him in. The dojo's most prized possession was a scroll of Master Sekiun's teachings on kenjutsu, written in the Mujuu founder and First Master's own hand, and passed down to Mariya-dono from his own master, Ichiun Odagiri, Sekiun's heir. Too valuable to keep on display, it had been stored in a locked chest in the library; students were allowed to study it, but only with the Master's express permission, and only he had a key to the chest. The key was still in Mariya's possession, but someone, during the night, had broken the lock and made off with the scroll. "--And it had to be someone from the dojo, or someone helped from inside. No one else knew we had the scroll here, or where it was."

--Sengai glanced over at Jin. "You're not quite listening."

"I don't mean to seem preoccupied--"

He knew he must seem absent: he was still struggling to collect himself, shocked at his own depth of anger, of having even in a moment of such intensity thought that way about the Master. How could he? Why had he? Was that old, bloody darkness still buried in his heart, trying to find another way to the surface?...

"You've got good reason." Jisho walked closer to his side. "I'm glad we have a chance to talk to you. Jin-san--" deep exhale--"we've been with the Master a long time, but we've discussed this thoroughly, and you were right. He should not have behaved so. If he should ask us, we'll say we support your actions."

Surprised and grateful, he looked at them both. "I'm most grateful, masters."

"You are most welcome." Another sigh. "We may all have to counsel together many more times before this is settled. Strange things are happening, strange rumors…you brought one back with you, and we've heard it from elsewhere as well. --But we'll talk of this another time."

They'd reached the Master's quarters, and all paused to straighten themselves. Jin hadn't been able to find his hair ribbon, and self-consciously pushed his hair back from his face. Sengai chuckled dryly. "Forget it, we all show we were doing something other than sleeping. He may as well know as not."

"Do him good to do that himself once in a while," grumbled Jisho, and Sengai shot him a look. They slid the door.

* * *

Besides Mariya-dono's furious scowl at their lateness (and the way his expression changed as he gradually realized why they were all so late, which Sengai privately thought had been priceless), there had been no surprise in the meeting. Mariya had tasked the nanadan to each choose two of their best students and have them in the entry hall ready to go within the hour: the search party must be prepared to travel day and night until the thief was found. Pointedly, he'd added that the party would report to Jin, who would lead them and be responsible for the results. That there was an exact reason for this, not one doubted, but there was no questioning it, by Jin least of all. He'd asked to speak to Jin privately before they left, as well…

Jisho and Sengai watched from the doorway as the party trotted off across the school grounds.

"If he keeps testing Takeda-san, they'll come to a breaking point. The boy's proven himself beyond question, he's been the Master's right hand since he was six. The value of that Kai property--"

"The Master is going to test all of us, little brother_._ The dojo is all he has, and he can't demand loyalty of its buildings or its history, only of its people. He's worried about what we'll have to face."

"..what _will _we have to face?…"

"Only the Merciful One knows that. Come on. We can wait inside as well as here."

* * *

It only took a few hours. Apparently not expecting to be trailed, the thief had gone a few miles and then hidden himself in a thicket near the road to sleep, close enough to hear his expected accomplice arrive. They had taken him completely by surprise, red-handed, the scroll unharmed in a bag on his back.

He wasn't a student of the Mujuu, but with Jin's blade under his chin he quickly divulged the name of the one who had told him where to find the scroll and left the kitchen door unlocked for his entry. Akagawa Shoko, another of the second-invitation students.

"Was he supposed to meet you here?"

"No, no, that man's a dealer in manuscripts, a fence. He was going to take me to Edo tonight. Shoko-kun, he never meant to leave the dojo at all." The terrified man was babbling, staring at the gleaming point so near his throat. "I was supposed to mail him his share of the profits from the scroll, it was all arranged--"

"That's all we need from this rat." Masato, shaggy-haired and serious, Jisho's best student, slit the cord holding the bag on his shoulder and relieved him of the scroll. "Jin-sempai, let's deliver him to the local police and get home. The Master will want that Shoko kid caught and soon."

Jin, never releasing the thief's eyes, slowly sheathed his sword. "Don't come near Mujuushin dojo again. Ever."

"No, young master, not for anything, ever." He shook from head to foot.

Jin straightened and turned away. "Fine. The law can have him."

* * *

Early morning, a bright May day at the Mujuushin. The entire class is assembled, seniors right, juniors left, in the entrance hall. On one side the front door, on the other the dojo's _kamiza_ shrine: the ceremonial daisho, the blue banner with the Mujuu's simple device. _Mu:_ innocence, uncorrupt purity, clear-as-light emptiness; the virtue of does-not-have. On the space under the shrine sits Mariya Enshirou, dressed formally in his clan montsuki, motionless.

Through the front door walks the search party, pushing before them Akagawa Shoko. Behind them, Jin, carefully and formally bearing the scroll. Masato and Kondo stop with their captive: Jin walks forward, bows, presents the scroll to the Master, who receives it and sets it before the shrine. Jin returns to his place behind the culprit, alert despite his sleepless night. He quietly steps out of his sandals, stands there in his white tabi, carefully watching Mariya-dono.

Yuki is as close to the front as he can get, trying to read Jin's expression, shocked and fascinated like all the rest: no one has heard anything about the theft but the scraps of story that have circulated since Mariya-dono called this general assembly. Why did Shoko do it? Was he paid by a rival dojo? Did the thief threaten him or his family? Does he have some sort of grudge?…

Mariya raises his hand and the whispers cease. Masato and Kondo stride forward and throw Shoko to his knees before the Master.

"Explain yourself, Akagawa Shoko."

"My family is in difficulties." The boy--about 16--faces the Master bravely enough, but barely. "I heard it said that someone would pay very well for original documents of Mujuushin kenjutsu."

"There must be ways to support your family besides betraying the sacred trust of your dojo. Especially when this dojo gave you a second chance, a second consideration of your request. I see that was a grave error. "

The boy's bravado fails under Mariya-dono's hard stare. "Master--"

"And you weren't even decent enough to flee, but planned to live on as one of us in all innocence. And perhaps steal from us again if another manuscript came to light."

"But the scroll is safe, Master--"

"Thanks to your fellow students, not to you." An awful understanding begins to dawn in the boy's face.

"Do not think you'll be released with a punishment. Your crime is unforgivable."

"Master--"desperate now--"punish me as you will, but my father--"

Mariya-dono snorts in disgust. "And you planned to lie to them about the money as well. You shame your upbringing and your clan as well as your dojo. Your father is samurai: I know he will accept any sentence I pronounce on you as right and just." He closes his eyes as if contemplating; the boy's eyes are fixed on his face, searching for any sign of his decision; imperceptibly Mariya crooks a finger at his side.

Jin sees the signal and steps silently forward. The white socks make no sound on the mat as he comes up behind Shoko; the school holds its breath. Shoko, his whole being focused on Mariya-dono and his next word, hears nothing.

The Master opens his right hand, and in one swift motion, Jin draws and drives his sword straight through Akagawa Shoko's spine. The boy falls forward without a sound, stone dead. There is one drip of blood onto the mat before Jin sets and withdraws his blade, sheathes it, lowers his head. Stands there.

The Master rises and looks over the room. "Our treasure is safely returned. Everyone may rest assured that the honor of the Mujuushin is well defended. This incident is closed." He walks to Jin, briefly embraces him, says something no one else hears, and leaves the hall. The nanadan walk in, dismiss Masato and Kondo, and prepare to remove the late Shoko.

It takes Yukimaru a moment to resume breathing, but when he does, he races after Jin.

The Master watches him go.

* * *

He finds Jin sitting before his shrine in meditation, grounded, still. Yuki quietly joins him.

A long while in the warm, bright space before anyone speaks. Jin, calm and distant, in light trance.

"We all know that we'll kill one day. When we hold a sword, we know. I give thanks that this day brought me an honorable cause, a swift death. I give thanks that my sword has served well."

(His heart is at peace, its dark and light in balance. His first life taken, first kill, at the Master's command and to avenge the Mujuu. It is the first time the smell of shed blood has not raised that old, deep terror. He gratefully accepts the will to serve, the self-control it gives him. All is well.)

_But--the Master used you as an example, like a fierce dog chained at the gate. Like an assassin…_

He reads the deep, tranquil breathing, the serene face, and says nothing at all.

* * *

_Anachronisms and other notes:_

Primary anachronism in this (and next) chapter: celebration of ordinary-folks birthdays. Not done in Japan until the Meiji Era (1800s); only bigwigs like the emperor had their b'days commemorated.

Secondary anachronism: use of beeswax candles. Though Edo Period Japan did use candles, they lacked the materials that made candles so cheap and commonplace in the rest of the world: as a non-red-meat-eating culture they didn't have fat and tallow, and though they'd been raising bees for their honey for 1000+ years, for some reason Asian bees produce little and low-quality wax. So what candles they had were made with great effort from vegetable waxes (like bayberry), and the primary source of lighting was oil lamps using usually vegetable, rarely whale, oil. But I love beeswax, and it's Champloo, so...)

_Biwa, _Japanese lute; _heike-biwa_, type of lute designed to play the great historical epic "Heike Monogatari".

(And yes, they had spring break in schools back then. Typically, the whole month of March.) 

* * *

In part 2 of "the widening gyre": finally Yuki's 16th birthday bash; the return of Master Torii; Jin gets an unexpected gift; and darkness gathers in. Better hold on tight.


	7. Chapter 6: the widening gyre part 2

**Sleepwalker,** chapter 6--_the widening gyre, part 2_

**NOTE: includes several more instances of Jin x Yuki--yes, that's male x male-- sex: be warned.**

**And if you want even more, please read "Interlude in Edo", which was cut from this chapter.  
**

**

* * *

**Usual disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Samurai Champloo, which are owned & (c) 2004-06 and forever by Manglobe, Simoigusa Champloos and Watanabe-sensei: but gods, I don't know what I'd do without them.

Especial and particular gratitude to Gecko-san, without whose fearless criticism this would still be mired in excess; and to overworked sister ArielTheTempest, who's waited a long time for it.

And thanks to everyone who's read this and written me a review. Reviews plus coffee equal life.

Edited July 2009 to prune the fangirl Japanese. OK, except the dates.

** _the widening gyre, _part 3--the last part--will follow very soon. Promise, x my heart.**

* * *

_Shichigatsu (_July) to _Juichigatsu _(November).

* * *

…_.If the Master could hear my thoughts now, surely he'd not worry about my dedication so. Look at all that's happened, and still my first concern is what he said to me when he signed this letter..._

They were walking back from the Edo ferry dock, the morning after Yuki's 16th birthday. It was a perfect summer day, and Yuki-chan was in high spirits, telling stories of his adventures on the previous Genjo tour and delighted to hear Jin actually laugh. (Who'd have believed so well-bred a youngest son had been in such scrapes with such people?--none of which, Jin would bet, Yuki's Mama-san knew anything about.) Jin felt quite sure that a good boyfriend should push aside any thoughts of school or trouble at a time like this, and perhaps he ought to try, but…

The Master had seemed surprised that anyone, especially Jin, was planning to travel. "I don't like the idea of you going so far from the dojo. I've heard disquieting things of late; I'd much prefer you and the _nanadan _all remained here until further notice. And you want to stay overnight in Edo with a junior student in your care? You're asking a great deal of me, Izumiyori..."

But he'd signed the letter of permission, folded it in neat thirds. "See that you're both on the first ferry back in the morning. And if Hojo-kun is even scratched, you'll be the one to explain it to his family."

His tone had been...odd somehow. Of course they couldn't afford any offense to Yuki's wealthy clan, but…had the Master noticed their constant togetherness, and divined Jin's real reason for taking him off alone? Did he disapprove? Neither of them was dating beneath his station; perhaps he thought Jin's training would suffer from the distraction of ayounger brother?

Patient sigh. He reminded himself that the Master had never taken a lover (…why _was_ that?…) , and perhaps didn't see there was more than one kind of love. Neither he nor Yuki was at all less dedicated to the sword these days, perhaps even more, as they were in close training so much of their time. And Yuki was the sharpest he'd ever been, even though he spent at least a third of each match--it was charmingly obvious-- just admiring his onii-san. Even with his favorite Jin was sternly exacting, requiring his best without excuse, and it was plain Yuki would sooner have died than disappointed him. They were both the better for it: how could the Master be unhappy with that?

No, he knew what it was: that strange, dark edge of near-jealousy, that desire to keep Jin in total service to the Mujuu, locking out all else. Flash of sharp, black anger: _if he wants me so badly he should have taken me in brotherhood __when I was fourteen, it was his right and privilege_… It wasn't that kind of jealousy, and yet in so many ways it felt the same.

The anger faded; he had to smile, looking over at Yuki. He doesn't understand, because he's never had someone as sweet as this…maybe he's never even loved the way we do…

* * *

Mariya-dono was still gazing out through the half-open door. _They say an old warhorse never forgets the smell of battle, the steel and the blood, and will scent it on the wind no matter how long he's been out at pasture. It's long since I've been called to fight, but that's what I smell; battle on the way to our door, steel and blood…_

He'd been maneuvered, he admitted it: as cleverly as he'd ever been by a foe, if much more politely. He'd already noted the Hojo boy's attachment to Jin and Jin's tolerance of it, but now he saw it all. Jin was not just indulging a younger student's harmless crush; they were brothers, lovers even, or if not yet, certainly by the time they returned from Edo. _He's planned this to give them time alone, and now he virtually has my signed permission to seduce the boy. It's wisely said that the ones we love can be even more clever and sly than our enemies. _

---But it was beyond belief! How could he be so foolish as to fall in love at a time like this? When everything might be at stake, when they would all be called upon to be most wary and watchful? To let his will and loyalty be divided, his attention distracted this way--what could he be thinking? Was it possible that he sensed none of the alarms his master did, that even the falcon's sharp eyes could be clouded so?

As it had before, a dark, bitter voice spoke inside him_. I should never have sent him to Gojuu Hall; he would be the merciless sentinel we need if his heart were still cold…_

But.. the voice of a father spoke up as well. See how changed he is. A calm, confident young man, with a younger brother under his wing. Have you forgotten it yourself?--the frightened boy who came homeless to your door; the stern, distant warrior-child that even the nanadan feared? Can you truly say you regret that he's been healed?

He closed his eyes. I only hope we don't pay a hard price for it.

Because it was coming: he was sure of it. The day when they would all smell the smoke of battle.

---There was a tap on the doorframe, and Mariya looked up in surprise. "Hai?"

"Forgive me, Master--there's someone to see you."

Who would demand entrance at this time of the evening? He laid a hand on his short sword. "Send him in."

* * *

They'd had only one sandalwood candle, and no moonlight, but what they did have was more than enough, peace and quiet and each other… Jin was still smiling as they walked, remembering how their night had gone. Just as he'd hoped and dreamed, and more. He'd been sure that an opening like his own would be perfect for Yuki's curiosity and sensuality, and he'd been lucky enough to find an antique set of polished rods for sale in Edo…

(--an hour, near two, the candle half gone, night air rich with perfume and musk, both of them panting and gleaming, and Yuki--trembling from head to foot--had found his breath and begged him. "I want you_. Gods_, I want you. _Please..")  
_

_-_--"Yuhei-san, I _do _know what you're thinking about." Yuki walked up beside him, laced fingers through his and gazed up at him none too innocently. "Would you like to pass some time in this nice, shady plum grove before we go home? They're not waiting for us, are they?"

* * *

_(--For the full story of Yuki's birthday party, please read "Interlude in Edo". )_

* * *

It took all his composure to remain impassive when he saw the scarred man's smile.

"Mariya-san. A pleasure to see you looking so well. It's been ten years, hasn't it?"

"Eleven, Kwaidan-san." Eleven years since that night he would never forget…

His visitor was gazing around the room thoughtfully, nodding as though it were just as expected. "They haven't been easy years, have they? Even the finest schools are beginning to suffer. I see it in my travels, day after day."

"The Mujuushin Kenjutsu stands, as it has and will stand," said Mariya, stiffly. "And to what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

"Ah, sensei, no need to be defensive. After all, the Shogun counts you as a friend and ally." Kwaidan smiled; the scar from cheekbone to jaw made his left eye tighten. "The offer we have for you is further payment for your services. In fact, it's rather a compliment."

"I was more than well…paid…at the time." The memory filled his mind: Kwaidan, a junior captain then, stepping through the back door to lay the silk-wrapped bundle in his arms. _Spoils of the Takeda estate, yours to do with as you please. The Shogun appreciates your loyalty and silence. _And he had taken it and bowed, unable to speak, hearing the horses stamp and snort outside, trying to block from his senses the reek of blood…

"That was the past. This is your future...this dojo's future. But we'll speak of it in the morning." Kwaidan rose. "May we have the honor of your first appointment tomorrow? My master is looking forward to meeting you."

"…I have one question. One I should have asked then." Steadying pause. "Did you kill them yourself?"

"I? No." The scarred man shook his head. "Lord Takeda was a master swordsman. I'm just a plain soldier, with no such skills. It was our Captain of Guard, if it eases your mind to know it."

Mariya bowed most formally. "Then I will certainly meet with you in the morning."

And when the man had left his study he bowed to the shrine in the corner and gave deep thanks that Jin was not here. It seemed he'd underestimated the boy's sense of smell, at that…

* * *

"You never have told me why you took up the biwa…"

"Well, a gentleman should know one of the arts at least, no? And those wonderful stories--not just the scary ones, but the heroes and their famous swords and the great battles…" deep sigh, his head on Jin's shoulder. "The kind you and I were born to fight in, and never will."

"Do you regret it?" More serious than amused.

Yuki gazed up at the bright leaf-dappled sky. "You know, when I was little I thought it was so great to be a Hojo, even though we aren't from the most noble branch of the family. All I ever wanted to be was the best samurai I possibly could, and my father and mother thought it was funny, or sad…" reflective pause. "I guess there's not much for a swordsman to do anymore, even a Mujuu swordsman. But it's still the only thing I want to be."

"You're becoming a good one. Your family should never regret your training."

"From you that's high praise. I should let you tell Mama-san that. Did I ever tell you that when I got my first shinai and kendo gear she thought it was so _cute_--" --wince--"that she had my portrait painted wearing it? It's still hanging in the entry hall, I'm sure. I bet she still has the outfit, too."

Jin sighed_. People who still have their family homes and doting mothers haven't much room to complain_…

--then he heard the noise in the trees. An instant later Yuki heard it too--a heavy rustle and creak, too big for an animal. And again. On their feet and back to back, blades out in a flash, they scanned the forest alertly--

A muffled but familiar voice. "Hoi, Jin and Yuki! It's just us!"

Yuki blinked, lowered his sword. "Hiroshi!"

"--coming down!" And in a shower of twigs big Hiroshi dropped to the ground, landing neatly, his constant sidekick Tadayo right behind. Yuki was about to laugh and ask what ninja game they were playing, but that was erased by the tall boy's expression as he hurried over to Jin.

"The Master wanted someone to reach you before you got to the gate, so we volunteered. We've got visitors, they arrived last night. _Kougijin,_ sent by the Shogun's council, two of them. They're meeting with the Master this morning."

Jin startled--Mariya-dono's premonition had been right. Had he been wrong to leave after all?

"What do they want?" It could be something innocent, some administrative trifle…

"We don't know." Tadayo picked up the story, letting Hiroshi catch his breath. "They just arrived, ordered rooms and a meal as if we were innkeepers--_hmph_--and said they'd see Mariya-dono as early as possible. All the Master said was that he wanted the nanadan to stand by until called for. And you, too." He kept his face absolutely straight. "So you two had better get dressed."

--Yuki didn't know what to think as they hurried along the dojo road: it was as if from nowhere a summer storm had rolled in, the bright sky of his day suddenly dark and edged with thunder. Jin turned to him at the gate, plainly torn between haste and concern and the wish for a loving farewell, and Yuki made the choice for him: a fond but discreet hug.

"Thank you, _onii-san_. I had a wonderful time."

"You're welcome, _ototo_." Jin kissed his forehead. "I don't know when I'll see you--"

He kissed the tip of his true love's nose. "Don't worry about that. You go."

Hiroshi tapped his shoulder as Jin strode off up the path. "But you really did have a good time, right?"

It occurred to him that he was 16 now, and no longer Jin's student. He would report to the nanadan in the fall, however things were come fall… He watched the tall blue shape draw away, filled with a strange wariness, wondering what else had ended with the close of his fifteenth year.

"--Best ever."

* * *

Mariya Enshirou sat facing them over the tea table: the cat and the tiger. Hosokawa Kwaidan, and Kwaidan's master, Kariya Kagetoki.

It was like something in a strange dream, to be sharing tea with a man so coldly formidable: the Divine Hand himself, most feared of all the Shogun's blades. Mariya felt wryly flattered that such an icon, long retired from service--thirteen years, at least--should have been called back to duty just to impress the likes of him. Everything about Kariya, from his balance as he sat to his steady eyes, neatly trimmed beard and the control of his deep even voice, spoke of strength, training and total discipline. His straw _kasa _hat, the samurai's disguise, sat on the table by his hand, a reminder that he traveled in anonymity and expected it to stay so. He let his aide do most of the talking, and that too was power, the knowledge that his presence was even more imposing in silence. --Mariya's sword stood in the rack by the door along with his guests' katanas, but --like theirs--his wakizashi was at his side within quick reach, and he did not relax for a moment.

"As I mentioned last night," Kwaidan was saying,"the Shogun wishes to give you a further reward for your loyalty. We have been visiting a number of dojos, but yours has always been high on the list, because of the Shogun's respect for the quality of your school's teachings--and my Master's respect as well." Kariya nodded in grave agreement. "The schools continue to train swordsmen---but the age of war is over. A new age is coming. Our wisest men believe we will eventually deal and trade with the West, and we will need different skills than before. Skills less...honorable, perhaps."

Kwaidan folded his fingers. "Master Mariya, we will be direct. The Shogun requests you to place the Kisarazu Dojo of Mujuushin Kenjutsu under my Master's supervision, to train special operatives for the Shogun's Council. Highly skilled and secret operatives."

"Assassins," said Mariya coldly.

Kwaidan smiled; it was unsettling. "Do you not think it suitable?"

Mariya controlled his indignation, turned to Kwaidan's master. "Kariya-dono, with all respect--you've forgotten everything you learned here, if you believe the Mujuu could train assassins. Our discipline barely acknowledges the presence of an opponent; we contest technique, movement, the flow of power, not men themselves. To be assigned to kill, to kill intentionally, deliberately--only for his soul's revenge could a Mujuu swordsman do that. Not for a master, even the Shogun himself."

Kariya glanced at his second, who nodded. "We expected you to say so," replied Kwaidan calmly. "But consider the reward: in return, the Shogun offers you full support of this dojo."

Mariya came to a full stop.

"**Full **support, Mariya-san." The scarred man drew a folded document from his sleeve, laid it on the tea-table. "All your debts settled, all your expenses covered, every month, every year. You need never again worry about such demeaning things as profit. Your only concern would be your students and your art, as it should be."

It took him a very long moment to speak. "But is it my art I would teach here?"

"Of course," Kariya assured him. "As we've said, both the Shogun and I have great respect for the Mujuu. I was trained here myself, and I feel certain that this is the richest soil for the seeds of our new style." Again the tiger smiled. "We will design matchless _hiegakure_ here, Mariya-san."

It took him a long while to speak.

"…..I will consider it. But I doubt we will ever be so desperate as to take patronage at such a price."

Kwaidan bowed and returned the letter to his sleeve. "We will surely speak again."

And paused in the doorway as Kariya stepped outside. "Ah yes: one more thing? We've heard you have a student of exceptional skill here…"

* * *

Kariya glanced over as his aide caught up with him in the hall. "You asked him?"

Nod. "He admits that the boy's a Takeda, but says he's a very distant kinsman, from an insignificant branch of the clan."

"If the boy's as good as Taira said he was, Mariya would tell any lie to protect him; he's the best hope the man has of keeping his school alive. We already know he's being groomed as Kisarazu's next master." (There was no reason to doubt the account of the big Yagyuu swordsman, a long-time friend, who had heard this directly from Mariya himself.) Kariya looked thoughtful, settling his hat evenly over his eyes. "Find out whatever you can about him. Something about his age troubles me."

His age? --wondered Hokosawa Kwaidan, but he knew better to ask aloud. "Of course, Kariya-dono."

* * *

The warm sun and the buzzing cicadas assured him it was summer, but Mariya, standing in his study, felt chilled to the bone. He had known, in his heart, that someday his deeds of that night would hunt him down, but that made it no easier to face them…

He had betrayed his kindred. It was as bare as that. He'd known the Shogun's men were bearing down on the Takeda estate in Kai, and he'd done nothing, sent no warning. He couldn't afford it, he'd told himself; if he defended them, he would lose his dojo, perhaps even his life. The Mujuu was a small school, not a widespread one with powerful friends like the Yagyuu-ryu; his only safety was his promised allegiance to House Tokugawa, and maintain that allegiance he must. So he'd kept silence; and when the riders had come by that night--the young Captain Kwaidan and the blood-stained soldiers--and handed him this bundle he held again now, he'd told himself it was a hard but necessary choice.

He looked at the unwrapped parcel on the tea-table. A few papers--the deed to Kai had been one of them, and that he had already returned to its rightful owner; a handsome, dark-blue daisho with a curious tsuba design of Buddha-eyes and lightning, Jin's grandfather's swords, to be his next year; a Takeda clan kimono in indigo silk, hardly worn. There had been a cotton one as well, but Mariya had accepted that for his own use; with Jin's father dead, he himself was, after all, the senior surviving male of the clan. Neither the first nor the last to rise in rank by violent means, he'd told himself…

He'd thought this was all there would be to it, this and his troubled conscience. And then, the same night, not two hours later, another party of horsemen had come to his door; and the bundle they carried was nothing so easy to put aside and forget.

At that moment, Mariya Enshirou had understood with perfect clarity the fineness with which the gods balance and measure out men's fate. Here was his chance to atone for the wrong he'd done--here, in the form of a shivering, orphaned boy. He could take him in, train and raise him, take the place of the parents he'd refused to save. But the price would be the very peace of mind he'd tried to buy with his silence; if it were ever learned that he'd accepted the Shogun's favor, and then willingly harbored the most dangerous possible survivor, the Takeda son and heir…

All this had flashed through his mind as he stood at his back door, hearing the stumbling, angry and horrified voices of the horsemen--they wore the mon of the Tsuchiya clan, minor Takeda vassals, but loyal to the last--who had reached Kai too late and found what the Shogun's riders had left behind. And he'd realized there was no choice at all. Refusing to take in the child would be an admission of guilt; taking him in might indeed, ease the guilt and pain he already felt. And he was a man without son or heir of his own, or chance of either. Besides--his duellist's mind noted clearly and dispassionately--if this young man ever learns who failed to warn his family of the blade swinging toward their heads, far better if you're his friend and benefactor than a stranger he has no reason to spare.

So it had been done; and now, the spiral coiled back in on itself, and they'd heard, somehow, that his finest student was a Takeda boy, nearly eighteen years of age.

* * *

"It's just as we'd heard from other schools. Including Niwa-dono's, as Izumiyori told us last winter."

Jin, Sengai and Jisho were standing before the Master's desk as he summarized his morning meeting. "The Shogun means to absorb the best dojos into his service, and leave any who refuse behind, to struggle or die.

"We face a hard battle." He paced the floor, his hands clasped behind his back. "We must focus all our strength on the success of this dojo. Set aside all distractions. We must keep the students we have, at the very least. I'll expect regular reports from all of you on their progress, beginning as soon as classes resume." Irritable sigh. "I'll have to ask all of you to take less time for personal pleasures. Izumiyori-kun, you'll need to see less of the Hojo boy. Sengai-san and Jisho-san--"a dry smile--"with these demands, you'll want to get more sleep." He took no notice of three surprised stares. "And I'm sure I need not mention that there will be no discussion of this with students--any students," with a sharp look at Jin. "It's unfortunate that three of them already know as much as they do, but that can't be helped. No further.---That will do for now."

Until they were halfway back to the masters' quarters they were silent; then Sengai said slowly, "Did it sound to you as though the Master is already considering that offer?"

"--That we must fight, but we may lose." Jisho nodded. " I heard that too." _And he didn't tell us every__thing, I'd bet my sword on that.. _ He shook his head. "Hmf. Trouble or no, I have no intention of letting even Mariya-dono tell me when to have sex."

(Sengai trod firmly on his foot.)

* * *

They spent hours together that week and the next, trying to form a plan. The Mujuu's reputation as a subtle and lofty art, a _shimpo kenjutsu-_-sword school of the mind--had always been a strength rather than a liability, before. It appealed to those of a spiritual nature (and those who just thought they were), who wanted to submerge themselves in a world that was half magical, to breathe the flow of a movement, to train with closed eyes. To be not mere fighters but warriors of the soul. It was this that made their school precious and beautiful, above all others, and they loved it without reserve--on this they all agreed. But it was this same subtlety that made it hard, it seemed, to attract students these days…

"No one has time for these things now. We're lucky to have the ones we do have." Jisho watched a little pack sparring on the open lawn, wearing those black haori painted with clan mon and heroes' names --Masamune, Musashi, Yoshitsune--that were the dojo fad this summer. "Aren't there more boys like these anywhere? Who still think the sword is something wonderful all by itself?"

"Perhaps the Master would be happier if he had more students in his own classes. They are a bit thin." Sengai passed the pipe to Jin: the _nanadan _allowed themselves this indulgence when they needed to think clearly and calmly, and had drawn Jin into their circle. "You could promote Masato, little brother; I think he's far and away your best. --Jin-san, how good would you say Hojo-kun is?"

Jisho raised an eyebrow--"What a rude question, _onii-san_!"--but Jin was considering it most thoughtfully.; when he'd had a little smoke he addressed everything with a careful, owlish gravity which Jisho found thoroughly endearing.

"I think …yes, he could do that. He's improved quite a lot with my personal attention." (Jisho could now not keep a straight face, and Sengai looked reproving.) "And he might do even better with a teacher who doesn't distract him, which I do..."

"Well, since he'll be my student when classes resume, I think I'll nominate him as well." _And that, _Sengai added to himself, _will guarantee Jin sees him every day no matter how grave things become. _Sidelong, fond glance at his longtime partner._ Shishou is right to insist we work our hardest on this, but he can't force brothers apart, not mine nor yours. _

And Jin smiled to himself._ Thank you, Sengai-dono, and Merciful One; I never even thought of that…_

_

* * *

_  
But by the third week of classes Yuki was nearly to the breaking point. He'd already been put on edge by Jin's sudden secrecy; he refused to detail their mysterious meeting with the Master, except to say that he was sure his hard work would convince Mariya-dono he could afford one distraction in his life. Yuki wasn't too happy at being relegated to distraction status, but something told him he daren't argue the point…

And then there was this. Mariya had been silent the first day he saw them both in his master's class, but as days passed he had criticized Yuki with increasing sharpness, had all but openly accused Jin of somehow maneuvering Sengai-dono into a favorable assignment for his boyfriend. Jin refused to be baited, and continued to train Yuki, silently demanding that the Master see the actual quality of the young swordsman's work, admit that he deserved to be there. Yuki had been terrified when he'd heard of it.

"Brother, he'll _kill _me. I'm not good enough, I know I'm not."

"If you were already good enough, love, why would you stay in school? The whole point of more difficult classes is to challenge your skill. And--" the grey eyes had gleamed like steel--"I want him to see we can work together. That we're stronger together than apart."

So he had applied himself as never before, and it was exhilarating in a way he'd never imagined, to be defying the Master's iron will, to feel himself becoming sharper and faster, to be closer to Jin, united in will, more like him every day. Tadayo commented that they even _looked_ more alike. He held his own with all the others in the class--there were only five of them--and of that he was proud, but his duels with Jin he cherished; they faced Mariya-dono day after day, side by side, with perfect respect but ironclad purpose, and sparred like warrior lovers, sharp brilliant matches with flashes of elegance and deep, breathless heat; and the Master was furious. Something had to give way and Yuki was afraid it would be himself. _I am good enough; I'm getting better; but he's always, always on my back--_

There was something in the way he watched them spar together--

And one day he told Yuki to stay after class, and started in without preamble.

"Hojo-kun, I've asked Izumiyori to deal with this, but where you're concerned he's quite obstinate. Therefore I ask you: please break off your relationship with him."

Yuki, prepared to defend his progress with the sword, was caught totally off guard. "--Master?"

"You must stop seeing him at once. It's obvious that you occupy his mind a great deal of the time, and the school cannot afford that. I need him at his most focused, and you make that impossible." The man's face was set stone, not angry, just implacable. "I regret this, Hojo-kun, but it is for the good of the Mujuu."

Suddenly Yuki saw it, and was furious.

"I decline, Master."

"You what?"

"I refuse. I will not. You don't know what you're asking us to do, you don't have a beloved of your own, but if you did you'd see. I can't possibly leave Jin, I could stop breathing more easily." He was shaking with anger, clenched his fists to keep from gripping his sword. "You're so jealous of me--"

"Hojo-kun, _stop at once."_

"You _are_ jealous. You think you _own_ him. You raised and trained him and you think that gives you his whole life, but it doesn't. He loves you, and the Mujuu, but he loves me too. And nothing can change that." He knew he was right; he looked straight into the Master's fierce black eyes, fearless with the strength and truth of his words. "Jin will not leave me just because you tell him to. And I _won't_ tell him to."

(Was it even deeper?-- he wondered too quickly to speak it. Did he want Jin without knowing it? Was watching them too intense to bear? He remembered Niwa-dono; it wouldn't be the first time--)

The man trembled with rage, but said nothing, and Yuki knew he was pinned; he could not afford to banish anyone from the Mujuu, or offend the noble Hojo family. And...he couldn't deny a word of it. Not one word.

Yuki took a deep breath. "If I'm not worthy to study with you, shishou, place me where you will. But judge me on myself. Don't drive me out to punish Jin or me."

Mariya turned his back. "You may_ go_, Hojo-kun."

The steely control of his voice said this was not over, yet Yuki as he ran down the path felt invincible, tingling with energy. He had dueled the Master to a standstill!--

But he did not see Jin the rest of that day, or after class the next, and on the third day he was ready for a fight.

"Why are you avoiding me?" A hissed whisper as they awaited their turn to spar.

"You challenged the Master. Challenged him _personally_." Low, angry whisper in return. "I've been trying to settle his doubts for months, and you do such a thing."

"But wasn't I right?"

"That's not the point. He's my father, not yours. We should face him together or not at all."

Yuki was speechless; others were starting to glance at them. "But he told me--"

"I don't care what he told you, you shouldn't have done it."

"I--why, you --" He could not believe it; he'd thought Jin would be proud of him. "How can you say that? He's trying to own you! _Do you love me or not?"_

"--Takeda and Hojo, next."

And they were facing each other across the tatami mat with drawn swords. The others' buzz had fallen silent. The Master was watching them.

Jin came at him and he knew at once this was no game. He was so fast-- blocked, struck back, a flurry of blows before even one coherent thought--he had to prove everything here, right now. Jin forced him back and back, almost to his knees--the room gasped--Yuki seized his balance, forced himself onto his feet. _Think faster than that, idiot, remember what he's taught you, breathe--no panic_--But there was no time to remember. Jin gave him a bare half-second to gain back his footing and came on again, so effortless, fluid, so familiar with the way he moved -- every moment they'd shared now used against him. It was all Yuki could do just to keep his blade up and see the flashing strikes coming, already panting for breath. _Remember him fighting Torii-dono_, he thought desperately_, take the fight to him. _ Summoning up everything he threw down a fast three-strike combination--counter once, twice, come in high and catch his downstroke--and it gave him a half-step toward Jin but he already knew it was all he had left. Face to face, blade forced against blade, he was trembling with the effort of simply resisting, standing his ground---

Then the grey eyes caught fire and Jin simply cut him down. A perfect, classical movement, blinding fast--forward, blade swept up to break the lock and force his away, back down with a sweep that could have cut him in half if he hadn't dropped to the floor, and the flat of Jin's sword was pressed against his throat. Jin on one knee pressed him down and back, Yuki catching himself on both hands, gasping, staring at him. Eyes that met his were fierce as a hunting bird's, drawing-blood sharp without mercy. No one was breathing. Yuki couldn't move. Heart beat his ribs so hard it must bruise.

(--names of God---he was _so beautiful_---)

Whisper like ice wind through willows. _"Don't ever doubt me, Yukimaru."_

And dropped his head and kissed him, in front of the Master and the whole dojo, everyone.

* * *

"Master, I respectfully request a word with you."

Mariya looked up from his polishing ."Sengai? Of course." He set aside the sword and polishing-stick, sat back from the table.

The tall swordmaster sat down, sighed and spoke bluntly. "Shishou, I was one of your own teachers. I have known Takeda-kun since he was six. I do not hesitate to say I know you both very well." He accepted the teacup offered him. "Whatever rivalry has arisen between you two, you must settle it. You've tested him over and over again; there can't be any question of his loyalty to you."

Mariya looked at the table. "He chose this quarrel when he refused to set aside the Hojo boy."

"--forgive me, but _you _chose this quarrel. Takeda-kun will work for you and the dojo every minute of his day, but surely our nights are our own. It is wisely said that who tries to grip water in his hands will see it all slip through his fingers." More gently: "You cannot treat being in love as an act of treason, Mariya-dono. If that were so you should have dismissed Jisho-kun and me long since."

Long pause. "Did you appoint Hojo-kun to my class on your own judgment?"

"I did. And I have not seen cause to regret it."

"I'm not referring to his skill, Sengai-san.---which I do admit is greater than expected."

"I still do not regret it." Sengai folded his hands on the table. "They both want to prove themselves to you, and the sword is the only way we know, any of us." He looked up, met Mariya's eyes. "Shishou--the Mujuu cannot afford to have you and your son in opposition. I ask as your servant and as a _nanadan_ master; please forgive him and settle your differences. We must combine our strengths, not divide them."

If only he could tell them…there was no one to whom he could unburden his aching heart, even these most trusted of comrades…

But he understood himself well enough. I know what I do. I have almost hoped Jin would be angry with me, step away from me, before he learns what I've done.

Should I not hear Sengai-san? Can Jin and I not be reconciled somehow? Should I speak as his father rather than his sensei? Perhaps I hold his loyalty more strongly with trust and memory than with honor.

The bold, honest anger of the Hojo boy's eyes: _he loves you and the Mujuu, but he loves me too…_

"..I have never dealt well with matters of love." A quiet, weary admission. "You are right, Sengai-san; I should better have half a bowl of water than none at all. I will talk to him."

Sengai rose to leave; Mariya raised his hand. "One more question…have you and Jisho-san been lovers as long as I've known you?"

Amused eyebrow. "No, Master. We swore our brotherhood seven years ago. I doubt it has dulled our swords."

"I must admit--" thoughtfully, as he picked up the sword and polishing tool--"that I noticed no difference at all."

* * *

It didn't matter that he had stood up to Jin twice as long as anyone had bet he could. It didn't matter that even the masters had complimented him afterward, that Masato had hugged him and draped him in one of those cool black haori--"Hojo, you earned your stripes with that and no mistake." No one's praise, even his own knowledge that he had excelled himself, made any difference.

He sat on the flagstones by the willow pond, stared into the water unseeing. Jin had shamed him. He had dropped all pretense of training him equally and shown just how inferior he really was. He had beaten him like a dog in front of the Master and everyone, and then kissed him, just to show he owned Yuki body and soul. Last night he would have said _of course I'm yours_ without hesitation, but now…

And he had _scared _him. He'd almost forgotten in their happiness that the Jin he loved was a creature of two worlds--the _mononoke_, beloved of kitsune and death-goddesses--until he faced those cold brilliant eyes. Sweet and tender he could be, but unmasked he was a pure force of nature, inexorable. And it made his pulse rush with terror and heat--that kiss had felt like lightning--but--

_---he could have killed me. Maybe he **would** have killed me. _Yuki's fists clenched in the grass._ I couldn't have stopped him._

--A soft tread at his side. "You weren't in class this morning, Hojo-kun."

He bowed his head resignedly. "Forgive me, Master." (No matter what he said it couldn't feel any worse.)

"Izumiyori is the best student in the dojo. It's no shame to lose to someone so skillful."

He sat down beside Yuki; the young samurai blinked in surprise. (But he _won_. Is he going to console me?)

It was a moment before the Master spoke, gazing pensively, as Yuki did, into the willow pond.

"Sometimes, there's more wisdom in conceding a partial victory, than brooding over what's been lost…"

* * *

Kariya Kagetoki was studying three letters. In a careful search by the tireless Kwaidan of documents filed with the Shogunate, they were all that had been found for this young man; his master had kept him hidden away most carefully, indeed…

A document authorizing the assumption of an orphan's adult name, Izumiyori.

A document requesting the adoption of this same orphaned Izumiyori as Mariya Enshiro's legal son and heir.

And…

Kariya smiled slowly.

A bill of sale, dated between the other two, finalizing the sale of a certain estate in the province of Kai: an estate of whose history Kariya was well aware. Co-signed by Mariya Enshiro, proceeds deposited in his name. The primary signee: _Takeda_ Izumiyori.

_I knew it._

_

* * *

_  
Tadayo bent down to tug at his sleeve. "Yuki, someone's here to see you."

He did not rise from his futon. "Who is it?"

"Like I have to tell you. He respectfully requests the pleasure of your company for a walk in the peach orchard."

Yuki nosed into the pillow. "Say I'm asleep."

Tadayo kicked his shoulder, hard. _"Stop being a jackass!"_

Yuki sat up surprised at the boy's sudden vehemence; Tadayo went on, fast, eyes blazing. "If someone that wonderful loved me I would never treat him like this, not ever. But you--you--"

"--are being a jackass," put in Hiroshi calmly, not looking up from "Five Styles of the Gedan Stance".

Yuki found his sandals in the neat rows by the door and stepped out beside Jin, blinking in the bright sun. It was warm for September, a gentle, glowing fall day. They walked awhile in silence as the raked stone path turned to earth and fallen leaves, leading from the dojo grounds to the peach groves.

"--Was I supposed to let you win? Is that it?"

"Of course not." He tried to keep the edge out of his voice. "If I can't beat you fairly, then I can't."

"Then why are you so angry at me? Snowflake, please--"

The words ripped out of him, sharply, hurt. "Are you the Master's or mine?"

"Both. Ever, and always, both. You can't be rivals for me." Jin stopped, took Yuki's hands, grey eyes anxiously searching into brown ones. "Isn't that enough?"

Yuki looked away. "You humiliated me to impress him. To prove he means more to you than I do."

"And then I kissed you right under his nose, what did _that_ prove? Yuki…" Deep sigh. They walked on, golden leaves scuffed aside from their sandaled toes, patience and pain struggling for balance in Jin's quiet voice. "We were equally armed and I've been training you for months. You had a better chance of matching me than anyone. Have you not been watching me as closely as I do you?" Little trace of a smile. "I thought you never took your eyes off me."

He was right, of course…of course, he was. Conceding a partial victory…

And his voice was melting Yuki's heart. How hard this must be for him, trying to be everything to everyone: teacher and student, son and brother, _youkai _and human, all at once; and the Master counting on him so.

_A kitsune who loves you will protect you, and defend you, and give you everything he can find in his heart to give anyone…but betray him, lie to him, break faith with him in any way, and he will forget. He'll forget. And terrible things happen then._

He couldn't bear it; his anger simply crumbled. He'd missed him so terribly. He threw himself into Jin's arms and hugged him as though he were returning from battle, was enfolded and held in turn.

"You'll need to be strong for me, Snowflake," softly into his hair. "As strong as you can. Everyone needs me, but I need you."

And no hesitation now. "I'm yours."

But still the least little shiver as Jin kissed him, and only half from desire. The icy brilliance of those eyes…

* * *

The document withdrawn from the locked box, once more, with its red tassels and sealing wax: the deed to the Mujuu. It had greater meaning than ever before, now. Along with the Sekiun Scroll and the Golden Scroll, it was the inheritance of the one to come after Mariya Enshirou, the fourth master of the Mujushin kenjutsu. The deed gave him the material Mujuu, its property and grounds; the scrolls gave him the masters' secrets, the wisdom never taught to students, passed from one _hachidan sensei_ to the next alone.

He contemplated them in silence. He had already planned to give them to Jin on his eighteenth birthday, an unbreakable promise that the Mujuu would be his when Mariya at last retired his sword. Now that decision was something much more. If they could not save the school by simple means, they might yet do so by skill and guile. If Jin became Mariya's legal heir, and the Mujuu Jin's property, before the Shogun's request became a demand, then Kariya Kagetoki might do as he liked with Mariya; the dojo would be beyond his grasp. Even if my weakness is too great, or the cost of my crimes against you too much, dear son, this may yet be a victory…

He held the sealed document tightly in his hands. Merciful Ones give you the strength to save the Mujuu, my Izumiyori. From the Shogun, and the future, and even from me.

* * *

"The deeper meaning beneath the superficial is a recurrent theme in traditional Japanese culture. In the art of garden design, it is actually given a name, _hiegakure,_ which means 'that hidden from ordinary sight.'" (I couldn't resist having Kariya call his new fusion of Chinese martial arts and _shimpo kenjutsu_ by a formal gardening term...)


	8. Chapter 6: the widening gyre part 3

**Sleepwalker,** chapter 6--_the widening gyre, part 3_

**NOTE: several more instances of Jin x Yuki--yes, that's male x male-- sex in this chapter; be warned.**

Usual disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Samurai Champloo, which are owned & (c) 2004-06 and forever by Manglobe, Simoigusa Champloos and Watanabe-sensei: but gods, I don't know what I'd do without them.

However, I do own Tadayo, Hiroshi, Terasaki Jiro, Akamatsu Akinori (on loan), and Masters Sengai, Jisho, and Torii Daisuke: and, my dear children, I am so sorry for this. I hope you can forgive me.

For ArielTheTempest and GeckoZero--it's as much theirs as mine. And thanks to everyone who's read this and written me a review. Reviews plus coffee equal life.

---Yes, I know it's very long. It had to be.

[Edited July 2009 to prune fangirl Japanese.]

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_Juichigatsu _1672_ to Shigatsu _ 1675.

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Yuki felt Jin settle down onto the futon, and was surprised; he'd never felt him leave. They had spent the night together, celebrating the eve of Jin's 18th birthday, and as usual after pleasure he'd slept like a log. --What did he have there?--he sat up, bundling the futon cover around him, to peer over Jin's shoulder. His onii-san sat gazing at what he held in his hands, holding it as delicately as if it were Ming porcelain: a folded, sealed document, and a long, ornate brocade bag.

"--He gave me the Mujuu. It's _mine."_ Yuki had never heard him sound so, before: the voice of five-year-old Jin in the firefly forest, wide-eyed in awe. "All of it. Even the Sekiun Scroll." He held up the folded document; tied to it with a tasseled silk cord was a dark iron key. "It's not as if I thought someone else might get it, it's just--I thought it would be _years_ from now--"

"..._Amida Butsu_." There were hardly words for something so amazing. "--and the bag?"

"Ahh--" He untied the elaborate knot and carefully slid out the contents. Yuki caught his breath. It was a handsome, antique _daisho:_ katana and washizaki, perfectly matched, their hilts bound in indigo-blue silk and their guards engraved with a mystical-looking seal of lightning and eyes-of-Buddha. The set, he thought, was four centuries old if it was a day. --Jin stroked the katana's sheath slowly with his fingertips, took a careful grip and drew the blade. The beautiful thing gleamed in the soft morning light. They both leaned over it, reading the pure grace of its line, the supple shadowy wave of the hamon; Five Schools steel, a blade of noble lineage. _This,_ Yuki thought, _this is the sword you deserve._

"Do you remember when I first met you, how I said your sword had probably met my grandfather's? This is that sword." Jin's voice glowed with quiet pride. "I didn't know the Master had it. I thought it was gone with my house, forever."

"I wonder why he never told you. Doesn't it seem odd?--How did it come to be here?"

"Probably the ones who brought me here delivered it with me. Though if they did I wish they'd found something else, but I imagine the Shogun's men took that…" He shifted the elegant blade, letting the light play along it like bright water. It fit his hand as if made for him.

"What was that?"

"Takeda Nobukado's war banner. An heirloom of my father's. I asked the Master about it when we were selling the property, and he assured me he'd had men search the place for it, but it was gone. They probably took it as proof that they'd killed the right household." Quick bitter edge, washed away as he poured light along the blade again. "But they don't have this."

"Or the Mujuu, " said Yuki softly and thoughtfully.

* * *

Months and seasons passed, and the Mujuu struggled. They held ground, lost a step, held again; one new student, two gone; there was a constant, silent tension in the air. The truce between Jin, Yuki, the Master and the nanadan held in a wary balance. Classes went on, dojo life looking on the outside much as it ever had, but on the inside they all wondered how long this storm would build before it must break.

The Shogun's cat and tiger reappeared in the spring, and departed once more, still dissatisfied. Mariya-dono knew that one year they would not leave without his decision, and prayed that the card he had already dealt would beat whatever they set on his table.

Word from Yuki's family came regularly; his father's health was poor. His elder brother Daigoro began to hint unsubtly that he should begin thinking about his future--his real, serious future, not his foolish games of swords-and-samurai. Yuki used these letters to light the hour-candle when he came to Jin's room in the evening.

Jin slept with the deed and the key under his pillow.

* * *

One morning in the cold early spring of 1675, a messenger rode up to the Mujuu gate leading a saddled horse, and asked to be directed to Hojo Yukimaru. Within half an hour he and the messenger were seated in Mariya-dono's study, where he learned that his father was dead, and his presence in his family's house was urgently requested. Mariya-dono read his stunned reaction quickly and astutely, and assured him he had a place at the Mujuu no matter how long he might be away.

That had been a month ago. The dojo's spring break was already over, and he was seated before the _kamiza _shrine, grateful beyond words to be home again, gazing up in reverence at the clear blue banner. Mu. The innocence, the purity of space and silence…oh, thank all gods he was back…

Big brother Daigoro had set in on him as soon as he arrived--practical, reasonable, dull as ever. Dai knew, of course, that a dojo education was a valuable thing to have, with its stress on fine learning and a gentleman's skills as well as the sword; but really, with father gone, wasn't it time Yuki put these dreams aside? _I'll give you a tour of the offices and we can talk about where you might fit in; there'll be an opening soon in the Ministry of Trade…_

_The Ministry of Trade_: he'd sooner die. He inhaled the serene air in deep relief. The world of steel and strategy, so calm and clear. Problems the Mujuu might have, to be sure, but here he could stand and breathe; here they agreed that the dream of his life was worthwhile, that _he_ was worthwhile….

* * *

"..Well--the school can't afford to hire anyone. The nanadan and I are the only ones who collect any salary, and we've all agreed to take cuts in pay to help the dojo." Jin considered. "Polish up your calligraphy. I notice the Master's wearing his glasses more often lately; perhaps he could use a secretary to help with his correspondence."

"That would be fine. I don't care if I make any money--hardly need it, as long as the dojo can afford to feed us. If I can just live here, that's all that matters." Quick grin. "And would I be your secretary after that?"

"My eyesight is fine.--But probably." Jin dodged Yuki's swat, studied him with rueful affection. "My Snowflake, you really were born too late. A hundred years ago they'd have sent you to the front to inspire the troops with your beauty. Captains pinning poems to your armor, vowing to die for you…you'd have been a dead hero at fifteen, and young men would pledge their love at your grave in sakura-time." He shook his head. "--Look at you. You adored every word of that."

'It's the life I should have had. I and you both. We don't belong in this world." He gazed out the doorway, a haunting darkness shading his voice. "If I have to go home and work in an office I'll be dead by the age of 20. I might not kill myself, but I'll be dead all the same. Make fun of me if you like, but the Mujuu is all I have." He managed a little smile. "That and you."

_(You and the Master both, no wonder you quarrel… _Jin glanced out and frowned slightly; he'd thought he heard a rider approaching, but there was no sign of a visitor coming up the path.. )

* * *

They had arrived unexpectedly and Mariya steered his guests up the back way to his rooms, side by side and forbidding as ever. More so: they weren't even bothering with the usual surface pleasantries about his health and the state of affairs in Edo. Something had gone wrong for them, and they were in a crackling bad mood. Just the Mujuu's ill-fortune to be the next stop on their list…

As soon as they were in Mariya's study Kariya turned on him and spoke without preamble. "We have come for your decision, Mariya-san, and we will not leave without it. Will you or will you not accept the Shogun's offer for Kisarazu dojo? Have you decided?"

He must have more time-- "As you see, we have not collapsed since your last visit."

"Barely. You keep the signboard painted, and very little more." Kwaidan sat at the tea table and looked at him almost sympathetically. "Are you trying to avoid the decision? Accept it; it's for the best. And it will keep you in the Shogun's good graces."

"Unlike the house we've just come from--but we won't speak of that." Kariya removed his straw hat. "Mariya-san, we will reside here until we have your word. We realize this is sudden; any quarters will be fine for us."

And without an hour's warning, he had suddenly in residence the doom of his dojo, and an immovable deadline.

There was no more time; he had dreaded this moment, but it was upon him. He must tell his heir the full truth of the shogun's request.

* * *

"--Oh, no. Not this time." Yuki looked up from his biwa in dismay as Jin rose to answer a tap at the door. Urgent whispering--he already knew what he would hear next.

"I'm sorry, Yuki, but the Master requires--"

"Does the Master ever _not_ require your presence?" He couldn't pretend it didn't hurt. "I've been gone so long, and all I want is a quiet night with you. Do you _have _to go?" Sigh, looking at his face. "--Of course, you do. I know--when they begin serving dinner I'll bring some over, and we'll eat together when you get back. How's that?"

Jin managed a tired smile. "That sounds perfect. I shouldn't be late, _ototo." _

The sliding door brought in the smell of rain, and he was gone. Yuki sighed, and sank back into the sound of the strings, his fingers handling the bachi as his mind drifted. He'd played for his mother almost every night he was home, she'd said it helped her sleep...poor mama-san…and all she'd wanted to hear were geisha songs, of which he knew a rather unmanly number.

_All these are is women crying over men, mama-san; doesn't it make you too sad?_

_No, love; it can be comforting to know someone else has felt the same pain you feel._

And she was right; when he sat waiting for Jin, those were all he ever played.

He sang it softly to himself:

_The world listens little to the lute-strings of the heart…  
I wish to keep him, but he will go to his own.  
I call him back, but he goes to his own.  
The spring frogs sing in their own rice field  
And the water there.  
The world is leaving me. Night rain.

* * *

_

The food he'd brought was nearly cold when the door finally slid open, but the look on Jin's face silenced any remark; Yuki stifled a gasp of shock. "Merciful One--_what_ did he _say_ to you!"

Jin dropped onto the futon and huddled into a silent ball, long legs drawn up and wrapped in his arms, head pressed into his knees. Yuki went to his side. "_Onii-san_--" --folded arms around him, stroked his head, genuinely frightened. "Please tell me, please."

A long silence before he forced out any words at all.

"Yuki, please go." The voice was agonized, breathless.

"What? I can't leave you like this. What happened?"

"Please. I can't tell you anything. Leave me alone."

"But--"

_" Leave me alone."_

It was too much; pain, frustration and worry boiled over uncontrollably. "No! I can't stand this anymore! The Mujuu's important to me too, and you even more. I can't help if you won't tell me anything! Gods, look at you--" he held Jin's shoulders, tried to see his face--

"--Yuki--" --still not raising his head. "If you hear this, you will be in the worst pain of your life. That's not something I want to cause_. Please,_ love." He couldn't bear the hoarse anguish of Jin's voice. "Go and let me think. If there's a way to tell you I will, but not now."

And it couldn't be helped; he collected his biwa, went to the door, stepped out into the rain.

* * *

Assassins. The shogun wanted them to train _assassins_. And Mariya-dono was prepared to allow that, to keep the school open, even as a skeleton, a dead, rotten shell of itself...it was beyond words, unspeakable. Contempt for the school was bad enough; but that his master, his father, thought so little of him, to trick and cheat him this way--to leave him, all of them, nothing at all--

He'd protested, and Mariya had cut him down at once, coldly, bitterly. "Takeda-kun, in all these years, you have never thought beyond yourself. In your heart your sword is for you alone, and for your own enemies. You see too well; you strike too quickly; you are arrogant and proud, and you must learn to serve. As you are **told** to serve."

He couldn't bear it; he wanted to die. He buried his face in his knees and wept.

* * *

His morning class with Mariya was worse than he'd feared; they could scarcely bear to look at each other, and Jin was so distracted that he lost a sparring match, something unheard of (Masato actually apologized for beating him). Yuki shot him worried glances but didn't dare approach him; pale and drawn, he was the Dojo Ghost of the old days, watching the Master like a starved animal. There were whispers and startled stares, and everyone cleared the mat in seconds when class was dismissed, leaving only Master and disciple to face each other.

"I know you're angry, Izumiyori. I understand your anger."

"You can't possibly understand. Making the Mujushin kenjutsu into a clan of assassins? Are you telling us to walk the path of darkness? And you give me this as a _gift_?"

(Not Master, not Father, not even his name; Jin's eyes were as cold as a stranger's.)

"It is the Shogun's service."

"But it's _wrong. _It's no longer the warrior's way."

Mariya met the dark, bitter eyes, torn with pain: he almost wanted to scorn the boy's idealism, tell him that the way of bushido and honor was not enough anymore. Yet with all his heart he wished it _were_ enough, and couldn't say such things--not to Jin, who already felt so betrayed and abandoned--

He had one thing to offer at least, one way his son might still not hate him.

"Izumi--- Jin. If the Mujuu is to stand, you must endure this. All of us, but especially you."

He looked down at his folded hands.

"I gave you the deed to this school, knowing full well what the Shogun wanted," quietly, "because you are my hope. Whatever I may say…or be forced to say…to Kariya Kagetoki, still the Mujuu cannot fall into their hands without your consent. It is yours, not mine. " He saw the light of sudden comprehension in the boy's eyes, felt able to breathe for the first time since last night. "You see the desperate game I play. If you can see a way out, then the Mujuu may yet be saved. Only you can do this. There are old bonds on me that I cannot break, but you're free to act."

"…I see." Jin rested his head in his fingers. "I've never beaten you at shougi. Are you so sure I can see a path you cannot?"

"I said that you see too well…If anyone can, it is you."

"--My class will be waiting for me." His son--still, for a moment, his-- rose from the mat, drew a deep breath. "How long do we have?"

"They will be here until we decide."

_We_ decide… He bowed. "Master."

* * *

Thank all gods, his class had heard nothing of any of this, and was as lively and innocent of the world's horrors as ever. He soaked up their bright energy gratefully as he walked to the front of the training room, apologizing for his lateness.

"Tadayo-kun just got here himself, " put in Akinori innocently, "he had to entertain the Master's guest while he was meeting with someone…" (---Tada and Aki, 17 and 18 now, should technically have been studying with Jisho or Sengai, but they had petitioned to stay with their favorite sempai, and as no one doubted Jin's ability to teach the next levels, it had been permitted. It made sense, actually; he wondered if the Mujuu shouldn't consider having one teacher stay with a student through his whole training…)

Tadayo, blushing, was glaring silent daggers at Aki; Jin, pulled out of his thoughts, was caught off guard.

"--The Master has guests?" (_More guests? Merciful Amida…) _

And they spilled over each other to tell him; beautiful Torii Daisuke, the _ muteki-ryu_ master who had given Jin his teaching certificate and the duel of his life, had arrived that morning, alone, urgently requesting audience with Mariya-dono.

"--and someone had to wait on him while he was in the Master's sitting-room, neh? And bring him tea and make sure he was comfortable? Well, Tadayo-kun just happened to be idle…"

"_Akinori.."_ muttered Tada, but his eyes gave him away; he had had the morning of his dreams. Even Jin remembered his sighing crush on the handsome swordmaster, and couldn't help but be amused.

"Well, let us be glad that Tadayo-kun's patience has been rewarded, and proceed, please. Gedan stance, first style."

(…but why was he here? Why now?…_I wish Tada-kun's crush was the only thing behind this…)

* * *

_

He saw the straight-backed shape sitting outside his door as he came up the path, and drew a deep breath.

Yuki got up as he approached, shoulders squared determinedly. "Onii-san--"

Let out the breath. "Come in, little brother."

They settled on the futon, sitting face to face, and Jin tried to decide where to start, knowing if he took too long Yuki would start for them. He did, but not as expected.

"--dear love--_are you all right?"_

He'd been braced for impatience or angry assertions, but not that--or the look of heart-touching worry and concern that came with it--and his defense gave way on the spot.

"Snowflake--"

They fell into each other's arms as if it had been years, clung together.

"You _have_ to tell me. Please, _please _tell me. I can't stand thinking about it another minute."

"---I can't."

"But--you can trust me!" He couldn't bear feeling so useless. " I need to do something, this is--"

"The Master did not give me leave to tell." Jin's voice was dark and exhausted. "I know you want to help me, but don't ask again. Please. This trouble is his and mine."

_At last, he has what he wanted_, Yuki thought meanly, _you all to himself again, no one else allowed._ --But he couldn't leave it there, not with the awful weight in Jin's voice, the way he leaned into Yuki as if near collapse. He doesn't need my sword…but he needs me. Even if all I can be is some comfort, like a cat that it soothes him to stroke…

"…all right. If just having me here is some help…"--painful sigh--"I'm here."

"More than you know." He hooked his chin over Yuki's shoulder; there was an edge of dread in his voice that made his little brother shiver. "The Mujuu is all I have--all you have. And we could lose it. The one we most trusted…he's gambled everything on me. And I don't know what to do, I don't _know,_ Yuki." He buried his face in the dark green silk, trembling, and Yuki held him tight.

(Yuki forced back a surge of raw panic; it was as he'd looked out the window and seen a tsunami bearing down on them. What could he mean? What terrible thing was happening? The Mujuu was his only refuge, his only chance---if Jin couldn't --)

"I wish we were living in your dream world," said Jin, softly and fiercely, fast. "I wish we'd both died young and beautiful heroes and didn't have to bear this. But I _must _bear it. Somehow I have to save us."

"You can. You will." Yuki kissed his neck. "You've _got_ to."

It was like a knife. _Even you…_

"If I can't do this, will you hate me?"

…a long, long moment. "I could never hate you, _onii-sa_n. Ever."

Jin closed his eyes. _But you'll never forgive me…_

_There is a way. There must be.

* * *

_

Though holding each other in a quiet room seemed the only thing they could bear to do, they both felt the same apprehension, a need to be out and alert. Yuki decided to skip his archery class --it didn't seem at all wise for him to handle a bow in this state (_and besides, I doubt I could hit any target smaller than Hiroshima Castle…)_--but Jin had floor-polishing duty, and that seemed a good, calming task for them both. They straightened up clothes and hair and stepped back out into the day.

Jisho was sitting outside his door, and rose when he saw them. "Jin-san--we've learned something you'll want to know." Significant glance. "As soon as you're free to talk."

Quick glance at pale, resolved Yuki. Firmly: "Anything you can say to me, you can say to Hojo-kun."

"Like that, is it? Very well.-- You know of course that Torii-dono is here, but you may not know why." The affable master looked unusually grim. "His dojo was visited by two Shogunate observers--by his description, the same two we have with us now."

"They're back?" Yuki, puzzled. "And he followed them here?"

"No, no, he doesn't even know they _are _here. He was most disturbed by the visit and sought out the counsel of an older master. Unluckily, he chose ours. --And considering that he's quartered down here in the instructors' rooms, while Kariya and his dog are in the main house, I'd guess that Mariya-san hopes to keep them apart as long as possible."

"But why? Because they'll quarrel?" Now Jin was the one puzzled. "Surely Torii-dono wouldn't stoop to killing a bureaucrat."

"A _bureau_--" Jisho stared at them. "You don't realize who that is? That's _Kariya Kagetoki."_

Politely blank looks from both young samurai. Jisho sighed.

"Of course, at your age, you've never heard of him…But that man was famous years ago, the most feared assassin in the Shogun's service; a swordsman of the highest skill. They called him the Gods' Hand. It's said he retired from duty only when he saw no fighter left who could offer him a challenge." Wry smile. "Mariya-san says he's rather flattered that a man of such fame has been sent to deal with us."

"Then of course he wants them kept apart. It would be even worse for us if the Shogun's man were killed in the course of his duties." Jin remembered the blinding swiftness of the _muteki _master's attack, no one not trained in seeing the invisible could counter it even for an instant…the assassin had no chance. Gods, what a mess that would be…

He rubbed the knot between his eyes with a long forefinger. "Thank you, Jisho-dono. If I'm needed for anything, I'll be waxing the floors."

* * *

Jin and Yuki polished the training room floors. They sank with deep gratitude into the Zen simplicity and harmony of a task they'd performed since childhood, skimming over the yellow pine floors like swallows on a lake, one from the east end, one from the west. Back and forth, the sweet honey-lemon smell of the paste wax, the warm silence of the wide familiar space, no sound but the echoed soft pounding of stockinged feet running from wall to wall, wall to wall. Why could it not be this way forever...it was all he wanted, all he asked…Yuki was grateful that the polishing cloth he gripped in both fists caught his tears as they fell. He would do this humble service with a glad heart all his life, if only he were allowed to, but it seemed so certain that it was being torn away…

Lose yourself. Be in the now. Wall to wall.. . this is peace, this is right…caught a glimpse of Jin as they passed: eyes closed, face serene, completely one with the movement, the rhythm, this act of deep and simple devotion. Yes. Don't think. Be in no-abiding-mind, be here, now, just in this moment. His breathing eased. This is right…this is right.

They worked for hours, and the old floors gleamed.

Finally, there wasn't enough light to see, and they gathered up their utensils. Yuki thought Jin would suggest going back to his room--hoped so, truly--but instead he said, "Let's go over to your rooms and eat with everyone. It shouldn't be too late."

And he'd seen the look in Jin's eyes. You want to be just a student, one of us, for a little longer. _Poor big brother...you never did get to be a boy…_

So they brought their trays back to the junior quarters, and relaxed in the wash of normal, ordinary chatter Akinori made sly comments about Tadayo's notable absence and what he might be up to; Hiroshi scowled uneasily; Yuki teased him, and Jin closed his eyes.

_In the sea of Ise', ten thousand feet down, lies a single stone; I wish to pick up that stone without wetting my hands._

The koan seemed to enclose his dilemma; if it could be solved, he might see the way. He let them chatter on, and let it resonate, mindful, watchful.

* * *

Yuki half-woke to a scent of sandalwood, and good memories made him smile dreamily and reach for Jin, but he was not lying there. He opened his eyes; by the dim light it was barely past dawn. The last inch of the candle they had brought back from Edo was burning in the candle-dish on Jin's little shrine, beside the Ryokai mandala, and Jin sat on the futon facing it, crosslegged and head bowed. He whispered something; praying, Yuki thought, or--no, he knew the Zen koan. _In the sea of Ise', ten thousand feet down, lies a single stone…_

Yuki understood, and did not disturb him. Bit his lip: _can't I do anything? …._

_Just love him. Love him, and don't be in his way._

He pressed his head against Jin's knee, kissed it, and sank back into sleep.

* * *

Jin sighed; it was no clearer to him. Perhaps the morning air would help. He rose carefully, slid the door and stepped outside--

--and stepped instantly back. Torii-dono had been given the vacant room next to his, and at the moment he was standing in its doorway, kissing Tadayo, so sweetly and thoroughly that Jin caught his breath.

_Well.--_Couldn't help but observe that Akinori had been right, not that anyone'd doubted it. He heard the man's chuckle.

"Don't be embarrassed, Takeda-kun; Tadayo is just leaving."

"It's not my embarrassment I'm thinking of, Torii-dono." Jin stayed inside his threshold, out of sight.

An obviously blushing squeak. "_Sempai_--"

Now deeply amused. "Tadayo-kun, I can't see you, and therefore I can't tell anyone I did."

"There, _ototo._ Now off with you." Sound of another soft kiss. "I have an audience with your Master this morning, so this may be my last day here, but I hope I'll see you tonight. Here--take this and think of me."

" 'til later, Torii-san. Thanks, Jin-sempai." And he was off down the path with a flash of bright red. Another chuckle from Torii.

"Please come out now, Takeda-kun, I've been hoping to talk with you." The _muteki-ryu_ master padded out, barefoot and clad only in juban, river of black hair spilling almost to his knees. He settled crosslegged on the wide doorstep, laid down a bone comb and two tasseled red silk ribbons--his signature ornament still, apparently. Jin sat down beside him, feeling oddly shy of such informality. Time had only polished that fine-boned ivory beauty--he was quite the handsomest man Jin'd ever seen.

But he was perfectly businesslike as he picked up the comb and began parting his hair. "Or perhaps I should say 'Takeda-dono', as I gather we're colleagues now."

Lowered his head: "I won't own the Mujuu until Mariya-dono hangs up his sword."

"He seems too ready for that day to come." Torii grimaced. "I came here expecting good advice and resolve, and I found neither." The bitter edge of his voice faded into sadness. "I've always admired your master; he and my sensei were comrades, and he acquired the Mujuu when he was no older than I am now. I just can't believe that such a man would surrender so easily. Something is wrong here…" He finished dividing the black waterfall into four equal streams, picked up the red ribbons--there were two--and looked rueful as he pinned them into place. "I'm used to doing this with three, but we'll improvise.--Does it not seem odd to you that the Shogunate is so intent on acquiring the Schools of the Mind? Like Niwa-san's, and yours and mine?'

"Yes, I've been puzzled by that myself." It was such a relief to talk about it openly. "The Shogun employs ninja assassins already, and I've read that ninjutsu is most refined and subtle. Why does he need more? And why especially swordsmen?"

"I think that's precisely it--ninjas use the sword, but they don't focus on it as we do. My feeling is--"he tapped the comb thoughtfully in his palm--"it's not so much the Shogun as this man Kariya. He has some secret theory of the sword all his own, some mystery school he wants to develop, and he's using the Shogun's mandate to collect the dojos he wants to play with. --Did you know he was trained in the Mujuushin kenjutsu?"

"Kariya? The assassin?" He was shocked. "Not at all."

_...should he tell Torii-san that the man was here? The Master had not, it seemed; he must still hope that Torii would leave without ever crossing his path…_

"That he was, and by your master's own sensei, Ichiun Odagiri himself. Even more reason to hate him." Torii shook his head, glanced over at Jin. "It offends you to your soul--I can feel it. This art to you is as pure as fresh snow."

"I will _never_ let that man have the Mujuu. " The quiet voice was a sheathed sword.

Torii nodded, plaiting the red ribbons into his hair: a complex, four-strand braid, his fingers as quick and deft as his blade. "Do you know the saying: 'blue made out of indigo is bluer than indigo; ice from water, colder than water'? I thought of it the day I met you, when I saw your color." Brushed the blue sleeve with a fingertip. "It means that the pupil who only reflects what he is taught will never go beyond the lesson, but the one who refines and perfects the art will be greater than his teachers. That is you--I feel sure of it." Sigh, added wryly, "If we can keep you alive long enough to inherit it…"

"What?"

Torii looked at him keenly, curious. "Has Mariya-dono told you anything about Kariya-san?"

Bitterly: "Only what he's here for. I've never even seen his face, just his hat."

"I thought as much." He tied off the red cords in a square knot, laid a hand on Jin's shoulder. "Keep your eyes open and your sword sharp, _kitsune-san;_ there's much more to this than you know."

Almost too surprised to speak--then made up his mind. Met the fine dark eyes directly. "And you as well, Torii-dono, until you are safely home."

"Is that so?" Sharp, thoughtful look as he got to his feet. "Then I will bid you farewell, Takeda-dono, and good luck. Take care of Tadayo-kun for me."

Slowly, trying to read him. "Until later, Torii-dono. We'll speak again before you go."

He sat outside for a long while before going back to Yuki. _Kitsune-san? Is he just telling me that he knows who I am? Or--is he warning me that they know?…

* * *

_

As he walked up the path in the warm morning sun, Torii Daisuke wondered at the dark impulse that had made him say farewell so finally; he had intended to be encouraging, to speak of the battle ahead of them both, fellow masters of the higher art…

Then he saw who was approaching him, and ceased to wonder.

They stood in silence, impossible to tell which was the more taken aback. Torii found his voice first.

"Can I go nowhere without seeing you, Kariya?"

"I could ask you the same. What does bring you here?" The deep even voice was edged with suspicion. "I hope I don't see you allying with the Mujuu to defy the Shogun's will."

Torii sighed harshly; these kougijin saw rebellion and conspiracy in every shadow… "No such. I came here for Mariya-san's advice, no more." He could not contain his anger. "Instead I found him trapped in the same web you cast to snare me. How many schools **do **you have under your hat?"

"Only this one, but it is the prize of them all." Kariya smiled silkily, almost in bliss. "A rare privilege, to train the child of a kitsune; who knows what gifts he may hide…"

Torii blinked; but--  
And suddenly he saw Mariya's plan.  
"Are you so sure of that?"

Startled by Torii's bluntness. "I have just met with Mariya; I have his signature here." Kariya touched his sleeve.

Slow smile of admiration: _old fox, I should never have doubted you._ "But Mariya-san no longer has the right to sign such things; he's already named his heir."

_**"What?" **_

The smooth mask of triumph slipped, and Torii saw the master-assassin's real face, the narrow, blade-cold eyes, the sudden apprehension and fury of a predator unsure of what had seemed such certain prey. And he felt at peace; everything slid into place as smoothly as ice in water. This was why he was here, this was the battle and death destined for him. He would fall, but he would save his school and the noble Mujuu from this black stain on the honor of the sword.

His smile was calm now, serene. A party of students ran by, casting them startled looks as they went, and he blessed them in his heart.

"Mariya-san has given the Mujuu to his adopted son, the finest young swordsman I've ever seen." He laid his hand on his katana-hilt. "The greatest master of the Dreaming Sword has come, you traitor, and he is resolute that it will never belong to you."

"He'll pay for that." The assassin reached for his blade. "And you as well, for your arrogance."

"As you wish," They shifted into an opening stance, sandals crunching in the stone path. Torii Daisuke was glad to the bottom of his heart, drew a deep breath of the sweet spring air. "We'll see, master Kariya, if the _Heijo muteki-ryu_ can match the speed of the Hand of God."

With a ring and flash of blades in the sun they engaged, and the man's opening sally was fast but wide, easily parried. Torii's heart filled with joy, it could be, would be done; the pure _shimpo kenjutsu_ would avenge itself. Matched him, and again, stepped forward to break his block, sure-footed: he could see the attack that would cut the assassin through, just in an instant--

--in an instant--

--a lance of ice ran through him.

He'd never even seen the blade move.

It pulled back out and he felt his life go with it.

No--no, he couldn't--he raised his sword in both hands, lunged desperately, blood streaming like red ribbons--

The assassin stepped aside and let him fall.

He lay in the stone path, gasping in agony, and even sharper shame…was that one boy he saw, standing there, staring in horror? I'm so sorry--whoever you are…

"What a pity, Torii-san. Now your school will surrender easily. As this one will."

No, he tried to say, no…Jin will…

_Tadayo---_

He heard the assassin walk away down the stone path.

* * *

"But everyone knows you're a Takeda, Jin-sempai, that's no mystery." He was eating breakfast with Yuki's gang of friendsin the main dining hall, near-empty now, no more than a few dozen students in residence.

"True. But the Master has always told people that I come from some far-off branch of the clan, not from House Takeda of Kai."

"And why's that?" Tadayo was doing his best to seem just as usual, but his absence all night and his almost visible glow of happiness had been missed by no one. Akinori was plainly burning to demand details, but Jin had trodden firmly on his foot the moment his mouth opened, and Yuki--just as curious-- kept himself still with difficulty. _Had he? Had he really?--_

Jin smiled slightly, gazing into his teacup. "Because the Tokugawa fear the House of Kai. The Morimoto bloodline breeds great warriors. Shingen. Yoshitsune. Such men are too dangerous now." His voice was calm and thoughtful, but it made the whole table hush. "If a son of that house is alive, he'd do well to live somewhere quiet, and not make himself known." He finished the cup. "But of course there's no such."

"Of course not," agreed Hiroshi, straight-faced. "We'd have heard."

Poor Akinori, who'd joined the dojo after scary Jin stories went out of fashion, was totally at sea. "---Ah---he called you a kitsune, so he knows something about your family?"

And Yuki was about to enlighten him when Terasaki Jiro burst through the door, sobbing like a child.

They turned as one to stare as Jiro looked around wildly, spotted Jin and came to his table as fast as his stumbling run could carry him. Jin stood, caught the boy as he pitched forward, gasping for breath.

"Tak--Takeda-dono--it's Master Torii--he's--" Jiro raised anguished eyes to his face. "--he's dead! That man with the hat, the Shogun's man, he killed Master Torii! I saw it!"

_He said--he said "farewell" to me, not just "goodbye". He knew. Somehow--_

Tadayo was pale as rice paper; Yuki was staring at the scarlet ribbon knotted around the hilt of Tada's tanto as if just realizing where he'd seen it before; Jin gripped Jiro by the shoulders. "Terasaki-kun, this is a very serious charge. Are you absolutely sure it was Kariya-san?"

"Yes! They were arguing and--Torii-dono even said so. He said--said--" The boy caught his breath. " 'Master Kariya, we'll see if the _Heijo muteki-ryu_ can match the Hand of God.' "

The wail that tore out of Tadayo was dreadful beyond words. The dining hall was as still as stone. _Oh, Merciful Ones--_ Hiroshi caught Tada by the arm, he tried to tear free; Jin set Jiro on his feet.

"Show us where he is. Yuki, come with me. Hiroshi, you too, and _hold onto him."_

Yuki caught his arm. "Are you sure he should come?"

"If it was me, you would. Hurry."

* * *

He had been run straight through, and lay in his blood, the beautiful unmarred face as white as porcelain, a drift of early plum and cherry blossoms gathering around him. Tadayo was sobbing into his chest, heedless of the red flow he knelt in; Hiroshi held him from behind. Jiro was telling Jin in a broken whisper what little of the quarrel he'd heard--

"I'll kill him."

So quietly he almost missed it, Tadayo's head lowered, voice near a whisper. Jin started toward him.

"Tada--"

"I'm going to kill him. He can't beat me, I'm dead already." Fiercely shook off Hiroshi's grip. "Let me--" Yuki circled behind him, Jin moved in to pin him against Yuki, both of them holding him down--"--Roshi, let me go! Let go of me!" Struggling ferociously, tears streaming, he drew the tanto from his sash and struck out blindly. Hiroshi dodged; Jin dropped forward, caught his wrists in both hands, pinned him to the grass.

"Tadayo. Tadayo-kun_, listen_." Pressed a fist under the boy's jaw, forced him to meet Jin's eyes. "You see that wound. It passed his defense as if it weren't there. **I** fought Torii-dono; he was the fastest swordsman I've seen, but Kariya beat him. He would kill you in a moment, Tadayo. One moment."

"He already has." Tadayo's voice was drained, grey. "He can't do any worse to me now."

Sensing the rage had passed, Jin stroked his jaw compassionately. "I am so sorry, Tada-kun..."

"_Daisuke_…he asked me to live with him. Teach at the Muteki-ryu and..and be his..." The boy's eyes closed. "Just leave me here with him. Please."

Someone had to tell the Master about this. Something would have to be done. Even a Shogunate official couldn't--

"--you two, look after him."

Jin headed for the nanadan's rooms, fast. _Poor Tada…if that were Yuki lying there, gods forbid, I'd challenge Kariya too._

_But.. I might win…_

He forced back the thought and ran on.

* * *

They faced each other across the tea table once more, just the two alone. No tea, no gestures of courtesy, Mariya deliberrately slighting his visitor's high status in his outrage.

"You, a guest in my house, on official business, have wantonly killed a respected master, also my guest, a friend to the Mujuu and to me and my son. I would not permit the Shogun Himself to insult my courtesy and my school's good name this way. Explain yourself, Kariya-dono."

The assassin folded his hands on the table, met Mariya's gaze squarely, matching his anger.

"Talk of courtesy and honor is strange from one who's planned so carefully to cheat the Shogunate."

"What?"

"Stop _lying_, Mariya." The voice snapped like a whip. "Torii-san told me that this contract you gave me is worthless. You've already passed Kisarazu dojo to your son and heir."

It took all his control to keep his expression calm. Why had Torii given him away so? But there it was, said and done--

"And that's not all there is to this plot of yours, Mariya." The tiger leaned forward, eyes pinning his, almost glowing with the heat of contained anger. "How long did you think you could hide that boy? Was that your plan from the very first? To give the Mujuu not only to a kinsman, but to the last one we'd ever suspect--the one you yourself were supposed to have sent to death?"

It was all collapsing around him--unraveling with every word--somehow he managed to speak.

"How long have you known he didn't die that night?"

Long pause. "Of all the men in that hunting party to Kai eleven years ago, I was the only one who had ever seen the Takeda boy alive."

Mariya stopped breathing. "--You were with that party?"

"Of course, I was Captain of the Guard."

_I'm just a plain soldier, with no such skills,_ Kwaidan had told him. _It was our Captain of Guard, if it eases your mind to know it._

"Not possible," he said aloud. "You had retired from the Shogun's service by then."

"As I am now. But I accept special assignments now, as then. And the eradication of the blue blood of Kai was a special assignment, indeed."

It was more than he could bear; he could not hear one further word. Not only had he handed his beloved Mujuushin, now Jin's, to the Shogunate; he had handed it to the man who had personally slain Jin's family. Into those very hands.

"As I say--I had seen him alive. His father brought him to some function once, and I remember him well. Especially those eyes. Grey eyes, most unusual. Not something you'd forget.

"That night in the Takeda house, we found a dead child, and the others thought it was enough. But I wanted to be sure; I began to check his eyes. And then the sentry cried out that a party of horsemen was in sight. I confess, Mariya-san, I wondered if you might have changed your mind and warned your kinsmen after all."

Mariya did not respond. The assassin shrugged. "No matter now. We had to rush, and I contented myself with a reasonable surety. But I was uneasy…it was a bad risk…

"And then, years later, my good friend Taira Shigehide mentioned that he'd officiated at a teaching exam at your school, for an excellent student, one of the best he'd ever seen. Almost surely the next master of the Mujuushin, he thought. And he mentioned the boy's eyes…such unusual grey eyes." Kariya nodded thoughtfully. "Torii-dono said exactly the same thing… 'the greatest master of the Dreaming Sword'…"

"He was hard to trace, I'll say that. You kept him hidden away well, out of the public eye. When I had Kwaidan ask about him, three years ago, you said what you'd always said, I'm sure: yes, he's a Takeda, but an insignificant Takeda, from a minor branch of the family. Not a Morimoto pearl. No need to worry about this one." Smile. "But those few papers on file, they tell the tale. --First, one Takeda Izumiyori appears and sells property in Kai--property to which _you_ had been given the deed--in your name, with your dojo to benefit."

(Of course_. Sign it with your full name_, he'd said. And Jin had: with what had been his full name then. And it had to be so, since had it not been signed by a Takeda the deal would not have been final, the money not forthcoming, money they'd needed so badly…what a curse it was…)

"Then Takeda Izumiyori vanishes, and Mariya Izumiyori appears, your son and heir. And now this same Izumiyori holds the deed to the Mujuu. The fox who had slipped the pack and gone to ground emerged again, clever and lucky as all his clan…" Kariya shook his head. "I'm not sure how he came here, or how you managed it, but you raised to manhood the very one of his line the Shogun most wanted dead: the scion of the Takeda of Kai."

Mariya, in pain, said the only thing he could think of. "He'll not be easy to kill."

"As things stand, I _can't_ kill him. You're a clever man, Mariya." The assassin paced the floor. "Not only is he your legal heir, thus a Mariya, not a Takeda; but he also stands to inherit a prize I want very badly. Your contract with us isn't worth a dead leaf if the heir to the Mujuu doesn't sign it as well; he can claim we made no deal with him, and the dojo slips through my fingers. I bow to you, Mariya-san: these are surely the skills with which you won a thousand duels." And bow he did.

"Spare me your praise. How can I save my son?"

"Make sure he signs the same contract you have signed. That's all. If he'll abide by those terms, he's safe from me."

"And if he will not?"

The tiger smiled. "Make sure he does."

* * *

They were sitting with Torii-dono, in the small temple by the willow garden. He had died far from home, with no other mourners; someone must sit through the day and night with him, keeping company with his soul. The nanadan had washed his body and dressed him in a clean, white juban; oil lamps were burning, and pine incense. Sengai had gently placed water between his lips, and turned his head to the north.

"Do you four all wish to stay?"

Yes, they did.

"Very good. --Jin-san, a word with you, please."

Tadayo had not stirred since they sat down, his eyes fixed on Torii's pale face. Hiroshi stayed at his side, gazing not at Torii but at him, a look of sorrow and longing that said he would gladly take Tadayo's pain if he could. Yuki watched him, the look in his eyes, the awkward, gentle way he touched Tadayo's arm from time to time, and it slowly occurrred to him that there was something Hiroshi wished he could say, something Tadayo would never expect from his big, plain, quiet friend…

Jin returned, knelt down and spoke quietly. "Yuki, will that colt of yours wear a harness?"

It was good to think his spotted Meryuu could do this solemn service. "Yes. He was Mother's errand-horse while I was gone. "

"Good, we can probably borrow a harness and cart in the village. If a lady's been driving him he'll know how to mind his manners." He touched Tadayo's shoulder gently. "Tada-kun--do you want to go with Sengai-dono? He wants to leave for the _muteki-ryu _early in the morning."

Deep breath. "Yes. I do."

"Then please come and speak to him.--Just for a moment."

Yuki let the silence be a moment before speaking aloud. "You should tell him how you feel, 'Roshi."

'It wouldn't matter. I'm not the type he'd notice." Gently, resigned.

"But it's so unfair to you…"

"No. Tada only sees his heroes. He came here because he thought so much of the Master, and then he saw Torii-dono and forgot all about Mariya-san… I'm not beautiful or gifted. And that's all right. As long as we're both here together, it's enough for me."

"I know just how you feel," said Yukimaru.

Tadayo came back, glancing over his shoulder. Jisho was trotting down the path; as they watched, he spoke to Jin, and they left together.

* * *

"But--you said you wanted me to find a way out--"

They were sitting together in the kamiza shrine in the warm afternoon.

"It was a vain hope, and I regret burdening you with it." Mariya rested his brow on his fingertips. "But we're forced to concede. We have gambled and lost and we must accept it."

"We _can't _accept it. That man killed Torii-dono--will he now say he had some agreement with him, and claim the _muteki-ryu_ by default? And what other schools?" Jin's fists clenched. "Master, all of bujutsu is in danger--the warrior's honor, everything we revere. The Mujuu must stand against it. We _must."_

Deep painful breath. "Izumiyori…I am so proud of you." With all his heart he wished his son's passion and pride made a difference. _In an older world…you always have belonged there…_ "But you've seen what that man will do. He knows who you are; he won't hesitate to kill you if he sees any sign of rebellion. You're exactly the one that he most fears and hates."

"You knew that, and still you saved me. Have I not been worth it?" Such pain in the wide eyes, like a child's. "Why can't you have faith in me now?"

Mariya rested both hands on the thin, sloping shoulders. "Because if you die, the true Mujuu ends with me. You must live, no matter what form the school takes, even in shame. Jin, please endure it. Bear it and wait. A chance will come."

"No." Felt Jin's spine straighten, shoulders tighten, his whole frame fill with resolve. "Not for a single day. It would poison the dojo and all that we live for." He gripped Mariya's shoulders in turn, searched his face, even now thinking he might take heart. "Father, I will find a way. Please, you called me your hope; believe me. If we stand together I know we can win."

He lowered his eyes. "You won't sign the agreement. Even to save yourself."

"I will not." Jin released him, leaned back; the light left his face. "Forgive me. I can't."

The pain was so great that he could not stand. All they had gone through…all his hope of gaining forgiveness by saving this one life, that he loved, that now no skill could spare. He was unworthy of it, but he reached for it just once more; he drew Jin close and held him for a moment, drawing a deep breath. _Once you were small enough to carry in my arms…_

"Dear son, forgive me if you can."

Unexpectedly gently. "I do, father."

The very air was bitter in his throat. He had traded others' lives for peace, and he would pay by losing everything, he knew that now: down to the last, to the final drop of blood in his heart. He had a terrible sense that he should say _sayonara._

"Then--there is one last thing that I have to teach you…"

* * *

"I don't think I'll come back."

"What?"

"From the _muteki-ryu_. I think, if they'll have me, I'll stay and finish my training there." Tadayo's voice was quiet, drained, his head barely above the straw mat. "I couldn't live in this place anymore."

"But--" _Poor Hiroshi._

"--Yuki-chan, be honest. Are things going to get better at the Mujuu or worse?"

He was too weary to think clearly: they had talked until they dissolved in tears. "I don't know…it depends on Jin."

"I knew you'd say that…You don't know how I envy you." Tadayo gazed out the temple door. "You found the most wonderful guy, and he fell in love with you, just like that. I hoped and prayed for years I'd be that lucky…and then for a minute I was, but..I guess not." Slowly stroked Torii's sleek hair. "Don't you and Jin ever break up. Even if the Mujuu falls down around your ears, stay together. Love like that is the greatest thing you'll ever have."

Said all he could think of to say; he felt as if the walls were already falling. "We'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Yuki. I'll always think of you and Jin." Hard, sudden hug. "If I have anything you like, you can keep it as a farewell gift. Just tell me before morning."

".all right." There was only one thing he could do; he stood up. "I have to have some sleep. You two keep Torii-dono company; I'd disgrace him if I dozed off. I'll be back."

_And maybe they'll talk.

* * *

_

Jin went back to his room, where Yuki met him, red-eyed, exhausted from crying with Tadayo. They lit the last half-inch of sandalwood candle and made desperate love, breathed and drowned in each other, forcing out all the pain of thought--

and at the moment of light, Jin's eyes opened wide, and he drew the stone dry from the sea.

He knew what to do.

* * *

"It's so simple. Torii-san was a master, but he didn't know the Mujuu, so he couldn't beat Kariya. The Master could beat him, but for some reason of honor he can't challenge him.. But I can; I have the training and the freedom to move. That's why it's my task. It's so obvious I can't believe it took me so long." He kissed the back of Yuki's neck, continued combing out his hair. "You opened my eyes, Snowflake. You may have saved us all."

"Amidabha, how I wish. I'll pray for it." He wriggled contentedly, unable to believe the change in Jin; after days of brooding, he was almost elated with relief, despite the darkness of his understanding…

"I only have to wait for his plan to play out. I'm sure I see his reasoning. He killed Torii-dono for an excuse to take the Muteki-ryu; he only needs an excuse to kill the Master, and probably me, to take the Mujuu. He has the signed contract, so he can claim I agreed to the terms." Jin picked out a tangle. "I only have to kill him, and it's all over. The Mujuu is safe, and I, and Mariya-dono; and poor Torii-dono is avenged as well, so Tadayo can sleep at night. --He'll make a move soon; maybe even tonight. I can feel it."

"You're sure you can take him?"

"I'm sure. He's never seen me fight; it won't be easy, but I can do it." Calm and confident as he worked.

Could it really be so simple? Was Jin right? Could he brush aside the nightmares he'd been having, the haunting images of waterfalls and night forests and blood?… Jin sighed and leaned into him, folded arms around him, settled contentedly.

"You were a thin little boy when I first held you like this… " --appreciatively stroked the lean, sculptured muscle of chest and stomach-- "how strong and beautiful you are now." He kissed Yuki's shoulder. "Don't worry yourself, beloved. By tomorrow morning this will all be over, and we'll be together a long, long time."

He wanted to believe it; he pushed the fears aside. He laid his head back on Jin's shoulder.

"We will. I know it."

* * *

"You weren't able to convince him?"

"No, Kariya-dono."

"Then we have no choice. His death is long overdue; it comes tonight."

"You will--"

"_You_ will." The assassin's voice, inflexible. "I've shed blood here already. And it would be awkward to explain my killing him--we'd have to admit how long he eluded us--but you could have any number of reasons. Jealousy, rivalry, even a lovers' quarrel… _You_ will, Mariya-san. Tonight."

* * *

I've only just realized I never did the notes for this chapter:

Yuki's geisha song is a real one, taken from the collection "Songs of the Geishas" by Hidetaki Iwamura. However, the opening line is from a different source--I've lost my note, but think it's from the poet Dogen.

Jin's grandfather's sword--now his--is modeled on one of the real-life treasures of the Takeda family and of Japan, the incomparable Hoshizukiyo--"Starlight"--Masamune. I know of course that Jin couldn't really have had this sword, since his was destroyed, while the Starlight Masamune is still in the family's possession and on display in the Shingen Archive. But when I saw this beautiful thing my reaction was just like Yuki's --"this is the sword you deserve". So, indulge me a little...)

Yuki's spotted colt, Meryuu--"dragon's eye"--is what we would call a leopard Appaloosa here in the West. The earliest known examples of this color pattern appear in Chinese paintings, so I couldn't resist bringing it into the mix.

Chapter Seven will conclude the Mujuushinken Arc of "Sleepwalker" (yeah, you guessed that). I'll be taking a long break before starting the Tokaido Road Arc; writing this has been pretty exhausting. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and hope to see you when the next arc begins.

(Yes, I know it's been years now. I haven't forgotten; trust me.)

Chapter Seven up soon.


	9. Chapter 7: does not have

_**Sleepwalker,**_ chapter 7_—"does not have"

* * *

_

...we've come to this point at last.

As ever: I do not own the characters of Samurai Champloo, which are owned & (c) 2004-06 and forever by Manglobe, Simoigusa Champloos and Watanabe-sensei However, I do own Tadayo, Hiroshi, Terasaki Jiro, Akamatsu Akinori (on loan), and Masters Sengai, Jisho, and Torii Daisuke: and—once more-- dear children, I am so sorry for this. I hope you can forgive me.

And thanks to everyone who's read this and written me a review. Reviews plus coffee still equal life.

_(Please make sure to read the footnotes for Ch. 6 Part 3, which I only just remembered to add.)

* * *

_

_---full moon, 9th **Shigatsu**, 1675._

He had intended to wait until the candle in Jin's room went out, but the candle had never been lit, and Mariya wondered if Jin knew. Perhaps he had some plan of his own. Perhaps he still thought that – somehow—he could rescue them all.

It didn't matter anymore.

If his skill was still the greater, the Mujuu would live on--as an echo of its former self, and at a price that had broken its heart. If Jin's skill had become the greater, then he, Mariya, would die, and Jin's remaining life would be measured in hours: Kariya would never let him survive.

Perhaps he should have turned the orphan away from his door.

Or perhaps he should have defied the Shogunate, spurned the assassin's offer.

It didn't matter anymore.

He would pay for his choices tonight, all of them.

He asked the gods for mercy, and drew his sword.

* * *

Jin lay in the lightest sleep, in a silent fever of readiness. 

He'd made sure Yuki did not come to him, had even left the candle unlit, to seem asleep and unguarded. His sword was a hand's reach away. The night itself was his ally: the moon had risen as he lay there, filling the room with soft light. _A clear, moonlit night in spring…one should be lying in wait for a lover, not an assassin._

If he was right, no one need ever fear that man's approach again—

His eyes opened.

The least, softest sound:  
the door sliding in its well-oiled track:  
straw soles on the straw mat, cat-quiet.

His hand moved to his katana.

The darkness poured forward over him, and he saw moonlight flash on the strike of a blade as he threw himself aside, sword clutched to his chest. A figure plunged past the bed: Jin rolled to his feet, leaped over the futon with sword drawn. It turned to face him, a silhouette against the glowing window, its sword responding with swift, instant grace--not to his stance but his presence, his movement in the still silent air. Torii-san had been right, this was pure Mujuu skill; how strange to find his foe so familiar--

The swoop of their blades like wings beating, then a second's silence, an opening--

----sensed and seized in a breath, the strike true as a Zen archer's arrow, straight through the heart.

* * *

_Your grandfather's sword…the Starlight Masamune…our ancestors' revenge for my treason. This death I deserve._

And as strong as his grief was his pride: the attack, the technique had been flawless…

Mariya managed a smile. "Your skills have improved, Jin," he told the pale silhouette.

There was no pain. He gazed down at the blade that stood from his chest, noting in perfect calm how it shone in the moonlight, the gleaming starfrost of the exquisite steel. _There is no shame in dying on so perfect a sword. I ought not keep it waiting._

He gripped the hilt in both hands and pulled.

* * *

(Yuki sat bolt upright, gasping in terror. A terrible dream-- 

He was in the dark forest, faced off against Jin, his sword held before him--but--he was holding it by the _blade_--and he could feel the keen steel cutting into his hands, but he couldn't stop gripping it tighter and tighter--blood spilled through his fingers, the blade ground on bone, and still his fists clenched on the sword, the dark bloodstain spreading--he couldn't--he--

--was wide awake, heart pounding, staring at his hands in the moonlight. No blood. No sword rotting with bloodrust. A nightmare--

Or a premonition--

He wanted to run to Jin's room, make sure he was all right. But so strong had been Jin's own foreboding that he'd forbidden Yuki to go there that night, or anywhere near.

In the morning, he told himself. First light.

* * *

_--so familiar--_

Jin, staring:

_If I close my eyes none of this will have happened._

If he could just fall back into sleep, away from this dream…

_I'm dreaming._

_This isn't real._

But it seemed real. He felt cold. And he thought he smelled blood--

_No._

_You see too well._

_Close your eyes._


	10. Chapter 8: born in a dream

_**sleepwalker, chapter 8: born in a dream**_

_Usual disclaimer: _I do not own the characters, situations, or any other minutiae of Samurai Champloo, which belong to Manglobe and Simoigusa Champloos now and forever, and I make no profit off anything I do with them. I just can't help doing it.

Thanks for waiting. ) Welcome to the second arc of _Sleepwalker_, and as always, a million thanks to my priceless betas, GeckoZero and Neko-san, _ sine quibus non. _ ("Without whom, nothing.")

* * *

_"The former Buddha has gone, the latter not yet come. I am born in a dream, what shall I think real? I have chanced to receive this human flesh, so difficult of receiving."_ ---Noh drama

* * *

A minute has passed and it's still there before him.  
Because he's asleep. He must be asleep. If he opens his eyes and this scene does not change--  
He can feel the blood spray on his face. Scent of steel and blood, tea leaves, the air of a cool, calm spring night. With closed eyes these things still seem real…but distant as long ago, shades of a dream… 

A voice in his mind: _even dreams move on. What next? Move. Move or kneel in your master's blood until morning. Or till Yuki arrives to be sure that you're safe--  
No. Not that._  
His eyes are open.

Calmer now, understanding that he works in a dream, he walks through the lake of dark blood and takes back his sword. He must touch the strong fingers that hold it, already half cold. _His hands, his skillful and beautiful hands that taught me so much, that gave me this life--  
---that meant to take it--  
--how could he?…_  
--too terrible, he wants to freeze, to do nothing, not ever again.  
If he could only sleep…when he wakes up the whole world is shattered, again and again…  
_Keep moving,_ the voice prompts, more firmly. _You cannot be still._  
He looks around the room once, but he owns nothing now. How could he? What is he? Kinslayer, avenger, heir to nothing at all--  
--nothing at all--  
it slides through his fingers, like water, unreal--

There is blood on the steel of his soul, and he wipes it off with his white sleeve. That can stay at his side, that at least. His sword and the blue temple beads on his wrist.  
_--it will remind you of the teachings and keep you safe.  
Safe…_  
With the same sleeve he wipes the blood from his face, unties the stained juban, lets it fall. Collects his wakizashi from the rack by the door, and leaves.

* * *

Cool and still as he passes the doors. All so calm, as though nothing had happened. The nanadan snoring as one in their room. The Master's quarters--  
_I should wake him and ask what to do--_ Jin sets his hand on the door. _Everything is so strange--  
But he told you,_ his memory reminds him. _He said your skills have improved. He knew you were ready to be head of the clan._  
And of course he is, now. All his fathers are dead. He is Takeda-san, the last senior.  
Jin nods to himself. That makes sense: he can wear father's clothes. 

He slides the door and steps in.But Mariya's not sleeping there--  
The room he just walked from returns to him, and in an instant of cold shock, all dream fragments merge.  
…_I can't ask his advice. Not ever again._  
…_I know why he's not here. I know why I must leave._  
…_all my fathers are dead…_  
…the shock fades, softly…  
…_so it's all right for me to take their clothes._

He easily finds all he needs. Clean juban and tabi, the formal montsuki--five mon on the dark silk, the privilege mark of a clan lord--  
In the polished steel mirror he looks quite like Mariya-dono.  
It will not hurt as much if he really _is_ Mariya-dono.  
He picks up the reading glasses from the dressing-table, sets them carefully straight on his nose._  
There._  
Big mirrors are expensive and rare: he's seldom seen his full reflection. He peers over the lenses. They make him look older, more grave, more father than son. Which is right; he is no one's son now.

The reflected face is a stranger's_. That's not Izumiyori. Mariya Izumiyori--the name he gave me, so full of hope…_  
…_something else I no longer own.._  
That too seems right, to leave bearing the name he arrived with. He names the reflection: _Jin. Only Jin._

There are braided silk ribbons in a bowl on the table. He carefully combs the dried blood from his hair, ties it back, picks a pair of straw sandals. He has no idea where he's going to go, but he feels fairly sure he'll need shoes.

* * *

He closes the door and sets off down the path. Time moving so slowly, moon clear in the deep western sky, the dojo at peace in its dreams. _Killing with swords is so quiet. A gunshot is like an announcement of death, but here, we whisper…_

He comes to a door he knows. _Yuki…  
...could I see him once more, for a moment…_

But if he wakes Yuki, will he wake himself? Will none of this have happened? Or--  
He doesn't know, and to the core of his soul he's afraid.  
And inside him something silently closes and locks.  
He won't wake. He _mustn't_ wake. In this dream, he knows what he's done, and the pain can be borne.  
_But Yuki's dream…he spoke of it so often…_  
…_he'll hate me. I said our lives here would be happy. I said I would save us…and look…_

The last thread breaks. He owns nothing, not even a snowflake.

He passes on.

* * *

Nightmares all night and the last one worst, clear as a vision. He'd seen Jin, walking down the path outside the quarters, near naked--stripped to his fundoshi and barefoot--his hair loose, his two swords tucked under his arm: and doused in blood, hair dripping, blood on his face and his feet. 

Yuki could not stay in his room one more minute. _Let him be angry at me, scold me, say he told me to wait. If I can just hear his voice I won't care what he calls me. _He made himself draw deep breaths, calming himself, retelling the story that he used as a lullaby, while he caught up his clothes: _Jin will rid us of Kariya. The school will be saved. It will pass to Jin's hands, and I won't have to go back to Izu, and work in an office, and feel like a slave. The very idea--the Hojo are warriors, not shopkeepers. We'll live here together as samurai, sword-brothers and lovers, as long as time gives us. That's what will happen. That's what he told me. _

He belted his juban, padded to the door--and suddenly remembered something. Tadayo had offered to leave him a parting gift; he'd be departing at dawn, and Yuki'd had no chance to speak with him. He should leave a note, in case--how he hoped it--Jin asked him to stay.  
_--But-  
--It'll only take a minute. He said he might never return, I can't let him go with no word._  
So he got out paper and ink, as quietly as he could, and wrote a quick note of sympathy and good luck.  
_I'll remember what you said about me and Jin. I know you'll find someone someday._  
And: _if you're truly parting with your things, your netsuke Jizo Bodhisattva is beautiful. I would cherish it always in memory of you._  
He signed the sheet, glanced around; Tada's chest was packed, standing by his futon wth his swords on top. Yuki tucked the folded sheet under the daisho--_There.--_and bowed to his sleeping friend  
"_Sayonara_. Be happy, Tada-kun."  
And _then_ slid open the door, grabbed the oil-lamp off its hook, and dashed up the path.

No candle, he saw as he drew near. Of course, he'd be sleeping.  
But what was that--that _smell---  
--of course--_  
He stared at the mat by the door, the mark on it: a single bare footprint, too dark to be mud. _His dream--_

He was starting to shake. He reached out to the door, couldn't touch it. Jin had been right: the assassin had come by night, just as he'd guessed. Automatically reached for his sword--of course, he hadn't grabbed it--cursed himself, of all times to have forgotten the most basic of cautions--

Yuki marshaled himself. He would walk through that door, and there he'd see Kariya's body. He would tell the nanadan, and then he would search and find Jin. The danger was over. They'd all be all right.

He opened the door.

Late moonlight streamed in from the west window, making the room all too clear. So _much_ blood--the floor a black pool, a long stain down the glazed paper wall--he followed dark footprints across the room. (The futon was ruined, and the tatami mats as well, he thought distantly.) Could just make out the body, a shadowy huddle in the pool between futon and window. He drew a deep breath and went forward, lifting the lantern, suddenly froze in his tracks--

What if the body was _Jin?_  
If his dream had been wrong, and the one who had left the room was the assassin?  
The thought spurred him forward: it was far worse to wonder than to know. He walked over the futon, a little mud no grief to it now, and raised the lantern high to see the corpse's face.

The sight was like a bokken blow to the chest, and he dropped, gasping. _Not possible--he _gripped the mattress as if it were spinning, his only coherent thought _no--but this meant_--  
_--the school was supposed to be safe now--we all should be safe--  
--Jin could not, could not possibly, have failed so-- _

Somehow he still had hold of the lamp. He forced himself to breathe, crept across the futon as if to the edge of a precipice, and held out the lantern for a long steady look.

(His father had once said that what a man feels when he's stabbed through the heart isn't pain; it's surprise. Surprise, disbelief, and a slow, sinking chill. True mortal wounds often don't hurt at all, _otosan_ told him; that's how you can tell.)

_--where are you? What happened?_  
(was Jin hurt? was he dead? Had he done this?)  
The Mujuu--_we're doomed--_and his future, his plans for a life here---  
_--it's all wrong--it's all gone so wrong---  
--I trusted you! **How could you do this to me?!**_

He was so cold.  
He set down the oil lamp and huddled into the futon, hugging his knees to his chest. The cover was mostly still clean; he pulled it up round him, tucking it under his chin. It still smelled of Jin where the blood hadn't spattered. His eyes filled with tears and he buried his face in the fabric.

The lamp guttered and went out.

* * *

An insistent sound nudged him awake, familiar, but so out of place here--wheels crunching in gravel, and hooves? A cart? _But we don't have--  
Hai, of course: Master Sengai and Tada taking Torii-san home to his dojo._ (Had that really all happened just yesterday?) He lifted his head from his knees; _we should go out,_ he thought hazily, _and say farewell._  
And for just one more moment it was all right, and he and Jin would get up, and comb each other's hair, and walk past the fountain together, down the raked stone path.  
Then he opened his eyes, and they were wide and dry. _That dream is over._  
He would go out alone and give Sengai the news.

* * *

_Conveyance of the dead is a somber task best done in silence_, thought Sengai, as he and Tadayo carried Torii Daisuke's body to the cart in the grey foredawn. They settled him gently in the bed of fresh straw that was the best they could give for his final journey, Tada's chest of belongings beside him. Drained and exhausted by grief, the boy made no sound. The nanadan master wasn't surprised when, rather than sharing the driver's seat, Tada-kun climbed into the back and curled up in the straw beside his late beloved. Sengai snapped the reins, and the spotted colt obediently leaned into the bit and stepped out. _The poor boy's taking it terribly hard, _he thought sadly; _I hope the Muteki dojo will take him in as he wishes. Perhaps there's some peace for him there--_

---_what's that?_ -- raised an eyebrow at the sudden, unexpected sight of Yukimaru leaving Jin's chamber, and in such a state: barefoot, dressed only in juban, and dawn nearly broken at that--

Then he saw that the boy was heading toward the cart at a run, and the pale light clearly showed a line of dark footprints leading out of the room.

He pulled up the colt and waited, cold filling his heart.


End file.
